


Of Knots and Sunshine

by nerdlife4eva



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe, Celestino as Father Awful (Mother Gothel), Chris as Flynn Rider, Disney, Disney Movies, Disney References, Eventual Romance, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, He is super cute, Inspired by Disney, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Magic, Music, Phichimetti, Phichit also swings a frying pan, Phichit as Rapunzel, Phichit has a hamster named Arthur, Phichit rocks the long hair, Princes & Princesses, Romantic Fluff, Tangled AU, rapunzel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-01-28 09:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12603688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdlife4eva/pseuds/nerdlife4eva
Summary: The Tangled AU that no one asked for (exceptdaysinrussiavictuuriand me who really wanted it lol). This is a Phichimetti-centered fic!Also, please find the amazing art for this fichereherewhich was created by the even more amazingdaysinrussiavictuuri. Days is planning LOTS of art for this AU and it is a true collaboration as we move through every detail together. I have a wonderful partner in my Mini Me and I can't wait to share this story and the beautiful art with everyone!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daysinrussiavictuuri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daysinrussiavictuuri/gifts).



> Rapunzel - Phichit  
> Flynn Rider - Christophe  
> Mother Gothel (aka Father Awful) - Celestino  
> Pascal - Arthur the Hamster
> 
> More characters to come as the story develops! 
> 
> If you want to come laugh about this, please come find me on Tumblr or Twitter!  
> [n3rdlif343va](https://n3rdlif343va.tumblr.com)  
> [NeRdLife4Eva](https://twitter.com/NeRdLife4Eva)

__

_Once upon a time in a faraway land there lived a beloved king and queen who ruled their kingdom with love and kindness. All of their subjects adored them and their lands were prosperous, making their kingdom the happiest of all the surrounding kingdoms._

_Yet for all the happiness, the king and queen were sad for they lacked the love of a child._

_For years they attempted to have a child of their own, pushing beyond the limits of what their doctor deemed safe, with an undying hope that their greatest wish would be granted. During the season in which the leaves changed colors and covered the ground, they discovered they had finally been granted their wish. The queen was to have a child._

_But the queen was much older than other mothers and her body soon began to struggle with the strains of pregnancy. When fever and delirium overcame her fragile body, the queen was sequestered to her bed chambers, only taking audience with her closest handmaiden, her physician and the king._

_Terrified, the king sent all of his best knights to search for a way to help his wife. Night after night, week after week, they returned with nothing. Frustrated, the king set out himself, determined to find a way to save his family._

_It was on the third night of searching that the king found himself on the edge of a cliff overlooking the water. Forlorn, he sat with his feet dangling over the cliff, crying silent tears as he prayed for an answer._

_The moon above him reflected into the water and the king found himself staring at the reflection, still searching for answers that were evading him. One of his men, approaching from his right, exclaimed with a finger pointing behind the king. Curious, the king turned to find a single flower, glowing brighter than the highest summer sun. Drawn to its light, the king crawled to the tiny flower and caressed its petals, feeling the warmth of them seeping into his fingertips. Desperate to believe that this flower could somehow be an answer to his prayers, the king dug the plant from the ground and raced with his men back to the castle._

_Cries echoed through the castle as the queen’s handmaiden met the breathless king at the door to the queen’s room. Together, they made their way to the bed, the handmaiden supporting the queen’s weight as the king pressed a single flower petal to her hand. In her nearly unconscious state, the queen lifted the petal and set it into her mouth while the king watched, helpless to stop her._

_Light burst forth, washing the queen’s skin in an ethereal glow and stunning the king, who stumbled backwards dropping the rest of the plant to the ground. None of them noticed when its precious leaves wilted upon striking the wooden floors._

_The baby prince was born when the spring rains had begun to calm and the flowers had made their entrance, breaking the world out of the gloom of winter with the colorful promise of new life._

_Anyone who can remember the prince will say that his wide eyes and unruly hair made him irresistible to anyone who was lucky enough to share a smile with the baby. Unlike most children, the prince was a constant beam of happiness, only releasing the tiniest of whimpers when his stomach rumbled with hunger. He charmed the entire kingdom with his melodic cooing while his tiny arms and legs kicked along with any musical beat. The prince was the life and love of his parents, and adored by the kingdom. So the queen and king were happy, and life in the kingdom had never been better._

_Until the morning when the king and queen awoke to discover that the prince’s cradle was empty._

* * *

 

Sighing, Phichit closed the cover of the storybook, letting his fingers trace the lines of the tiny paper lanterns decorating the front of it. He knew the rest of the story, the story of the king and queen grieving over their lost son, as he had read the book so many times the pages had become dog-eared with love.

This was not a book he was supposed to have and the small rebellious streak that had been slowly growing over the past year glinted inside him with pride. He had stolen it from his father’s bookshelf after seeing the cover, and had carefully hidden it within the stacks of fabric and paper which he used to create the designs that floated into his mind at whim. His father had never noticed the book was missing, and Phichit was certainly never going to put it back.

Resting his cheek on his hand, Phichit stared out into the world. The storybook kingdom was not very far away, existing somewhere beyond the line of trees that Phichit had never crossed. He had seen the lanterns floating, sent up every year on the lost prince’s birthday to remind him that he could still come home. When Phichit had first seen them floating above the sky on Phichit’s own tenth birthday, he had immediately started to paint them on his walls. Fingers tracing over those childish sketches, still etched into the wood of the window frame, Phichit felt his wavering strength become more solidified.

Feeling a nudge against his elbow, he smiled down, scooping up his only friend other than his father. Arthur was a furry ball of hamster who had found his way into Phichit’s tower and decided to stay with him, even though Phichit never left the confines of his prison.

He hadn’t always thought of his higher-than-life room as a prison. In his younger years he had believed every word his father said about the evil ways of mankind, and Phichit had happily stayed tucked safely away in the walls that he had painted with glowing lanterns and bright flowers. Now though, Phichit sighed again, turning back to look out from his bird’s eye view, he longed for the chance to see the world. Maybe even fall in love. Giggling with the thought of a handsome prince of his own, Phichit pecked a kiss to Arthur’s cheek as he began to dance around his room.

“I’m going to do it!’ Phichit declared, sticking his tongue out as tiny Arthur rolled his eyes at Phichit. “No really! Today, I am going to ask Father to take me to see the lanterns. I cleaned my entire room,” Phichit frowned when Arthur pointed at a pile of discarded paint brushes and quickly kicked them under the bed. “I made Father’s favorite cake,” Phichit danced passed the small table where the cake was cooling smelling of sugar and blueberries, “and I even brushed all of the tangles from my hair.” Proudly, Phichit tossed the long ponytail over his shoulder, amusedly watching the ripple of the action react through the rest of its length. “Father is always in a better mood after going out to pick berries, and today he is definitely going to say yes!” Phichit grinned as he set Arthur on the small blue pillow, scoffing at his furry friend when the hamster shook his head. He watched as Arthur scurried off of his pillow, tiny body disappearing into the closest jewelry box and reappearing holding a little jacket and a crown.

“What’s this?” Phichit asked, laughing as he plucked the coat and crown from Arthur’s grasp. “Do you want to wear your costume, Prince Arthur?” It was foolish to dress his only friend up as a prince, and probably even more foolish to have pretend balls while dancing with said hamster, but no one would ever know. Phichit had never seen anyone besides his father for his entire life and he didn’t suspect that he ever would. Raising an eyebrow at his squeaking hamster, Phichit leaned forward to place the crown on Arthur’s head. A furry paw knocked it away as Phichit laughed.

Arthur stood on his hind legs and stuck out his chest, little hamster arms resting on his hips as he walked across the dresser in his best Father Awful impression. Father Awful was the nickname Phichit had given his father after Phichit had asked to go berry picking only to receive another lecture about never leaving his tower. “The Tower Is Safe, the World Is Not,” would be the title of his father’s book, if he ever chose to write one. As Arthur made his way back to the hamster-sized clothes, he pointed a paw to his chest and slowly nodded with a menacing scowl.

“Wait,” Phichit giggled, shaking his head, “If Father says yes, you’ll wear your outfit?” He smiled as Arthur grimaced but nodded his head. “And what if he says no?” Phichit inquired, crossing his arms over his chest. The latter was more likely so Phichit needed to be prepared with all the terms of the bet before he agreed to anything foolish. His lips quirked into a smile when Arthur wiggled his eyebrows, pointing over Phichit’s shoulder to where the blueberry cake was cooling. “You want cake?” Phichit laughed, bending down as Arthur emphatically rubbed his stomach. “Fine, deal,” he stuck out a single finger and let Arthur wrap his paw over the end as they shook on the bet. “But I will have you know-”

The calling of Phichit’s name from outside of the window had him leaving the rest of his sentence behind as he crossed the wood flowers and leaned to peer down at the ground. His father, with his dark ponytail and hooked nose, stood at the bottom of the tower impatiently waiting for Phichit to lift him up. Dutifully, Phichit seized his hair and threw it out of the window.

Celestino Cialdini swung his legs through the window, black cape floating behind him as he stepped into the room. His size was formidable, as were his sharp features and broad stature. Even though Phichit was nearly eighteen, he still felt like a child in his father’s presence. Feeling his nerve begin to slip, Phichit bounced towards his father, collecting the basket of berries from his father’s arms and setting them next to the blueberry cake on the table.

“Been baking, I see,” his father asked, crossing the room in three powerful strides. Phichit often found himself wishing he could be as intimidating as his father, even though his slight build and round cheeks made it impossible for him to achieve. Arthur had laughed at him the last time Phichit was practicing acting like his father in the mirror, and he had quickly dropped the act, succumbing to his inevitable cuteness.

Snapping fingers in front of Phichit’s face had him jumping back to stare at his father, “earth to Phichit!” Father Awful barked, scowling at his son from his place next to the table. “Were you baking today?” His hand swept over the cake, giving the answer for Phichit and still requiring Phichit to respond.

“Yes, father!” Phichit squeaked, leaning over the table to check if the cake was cool. “I thought that maybe you would want a treat when you came home.” Fidgeting with the edges of his jacket, Phichit couldn’t find the courage to look up.

“Oh really?” Father Awful asked, tipping his head to look down the crooked bridge of his nose at Phichit. “And this wouldn’t at all be about buttering me up before your birthday?” His tone sounded teasing and Phichit relaxed, hope spreading in him with his father’s taunting. Celestino Cialdini was not a man who joked around, and Phichit took this as a good sign.

“You caught me!” he chucked, hands lifting in the air as he smiled sheepishly at his father’s hum of acknowledgement. “I have been thinking about my birthday…” Phichit trailed off, glancing to see Arthur motioning for him to stop speaking. Before he could chicken out, Phichit blurted, “I want to go see the lanterns!” Clapping both hands over his mouth, Phichit backed up when his father’s stare became deadly.

“Phichit,” his father warned, reaching over to wrap his fingers around Phichit’s wrists and tug his hands from his mouth, “you know the rules. You stay here. You stay safe. The world is a nasty place my precious, and you are better off if you stay here.” Celestino turned on his heel and began to make his way toward the door.

“What if you’re wrong!” Phichit yelled, hearing Arthur squeak as he dove for the safety of the jewelry box. “Coward,” Phichit whispered under his breath, shaking his head at his best friend.

“I forgot.” Celestino began, voice low and deadly as he turned to face Phichit, “you are almost eighteen, that means you know everything now.” Phichit’s skin crawled with the chill that had taken over his father’s words. “You are able to defend yourself against every monster,” Celestino grabbed Phichit’s arm and pinched him, “and every demon,” twisting Phichit in a circle, Celestino faced him toward the full-length mirror, “and every evil person who would want to destroy a beauty such as yours.”

Phichit watched his reflection as his father ran a finger over Phichit’s cheek. He blushed knowing that he couldn’t handle any of the dangers that his father listed and finally met his father’s eyes in the mirror with a small shake of his head.

“Now that that’s settled,” Celestino dropped his hands from Phichit’s body to wrap them into Phichit’s hair, “how about you do a bit of singing and then we shall see if we die trying to eat your cake.” The tug against Phichit’s scalp had him nodding yes as his hope to see the world beyond his tower disappeared.

* * *

 

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow across the town as three figures jumped from the top of the castle wall, landing on the closest roof as pebbles scattered beneath their feet. Sharing a set of devious grins, they continued to sprint as the shouts erupted behind them.

Running across a rooftop was nothing new for the set of professional thieves. Below them the palace guards were charging through the streets, firing arrows and insults, as the criminals leapt from edge to edge with practiced ease and mocking laughter.

It had been almost too easy to sneak into the treasure room. The Sunshine Kingdom was notoriously lax about security and none of their citizens would have ever considered stealing from their ruling royals. None of them except Christophe Giacometti and his set of brutes, Emil and Mickey.

Laughing at the poorly aimed shots of the guards, the three of them made their final leaps over the town walls, swinging from the branches of trees as they efficiently found their way back to the ground. As they hit the grass, feet keeping them stable as they sprinted forward, a flash of white passed by Christophe’s right, colliding with Mickey to bring him crashing to the ground. Christophe didn’t need to look back to know that it was the king’s most obnoxious horse finally getting into the action, and he sneered as he trained his eyes on Emil’s reaction.

Emil shouted, changing his direction to assist Mickey, and Christophe took the opportunity to snag the satchel from Emil’s hands as he passed by. As his partners shouted about his betrayal, Christophe swung onto a nearby horse and waved over his shoulder as he rode away, laughing as he saw the palace guards descend upon them.

The sound of hooves had Christophe glancing over his shoulder, rolling his eyes as he spotted the palace’s most relentless equestrian guard. Determined to evade the white horse and keep his stolen prize, Christophe hit his heels hard against the belly of his horse, leaning forward to ensure he wouldn’t be bucked off.

Leaves slapped against him as he raced through the forest, hands threaded in the horse’s mane to guide their path as the trees became dense. The steady pound of trailing hooves could still be heard in the distance, and Christophe groaned at the ridiculous dedication of the single horse. None of the guards had bothered to follow him, why this horse had to continue to make his life miserable was outside of any reason he could comprehend. Behind him, the sound grew louder, and he hastily yanked his horse’s mane to the right hoping for another successful evasive maneuver.

Instead, he found himself flying through the air, crashing through a curtain of hanging vines and coming to painful halt on a patch of grass. Suppressing his need to curse at his own luck, he froze, listening to the sounds of the horse sniffing on the other side of hanging greens. After a breathless minute, the sounds disappeared and Christophe exhaled, flopping back against the ground and staring at the sky.

It was the sheer mass of the tower that caught his attention. Stones lined in flawless circles rose from the ground, blocking the view of the sun and making Christophe’s eyebrows raise toward his hairline. He had been exploring for most of his life, never settling in any place for any length of time, but he had never seen anything quite like the tower in front of him. Interest piqued, he shoved up from the ground and walked cautiously toward the enormous structure.

 “No stairs,” Christophe remarked, walking a single circle around the tower, “interesting architecture choice.” He was mumbling to himself as a way to release his nerves, built up from the chase out of the palace directly to the foot of this mysterious tower. Christophe could handle a lot of surprises, but this was pushing his limit for the day. Looking up with his hands on his hips, he spied the single window. Curiosity finally getting the best of him, he searched the tower for suitable handholds and began to climb.

Arthur’s furious squeaking had Phichit running to his window. Peering down, his eyes went wide as he panicked and ducked to the floor. Silently asking Arthur what he should do, he nodded determinedly as his trusty hamster pointed to the frying pan resting on the stove. Creeping across the floor, Phichit carefully reached up and curled his fingers around it, pulling it to his chest before sliding in place against the wall nearest to the window.

“The hell kind of… messed up…” Christophe was out of breath as he took a chance at looking back at the ground. Feeling queasy at the distance between himself and impending death, he forced himself to focus on getting into the window above him. “Whatever’s up there better be worth it,” he muttered to himself as he made his last three moves and hoisted himself into the window. He got exactly three seconds to process the room around him before the room went dark.

The body landed with a thud on the ground as Phichit squealed, swinging his frying pan with all the might in his arms. Tapping against the man’s leg with his toe, Phichit stared horrified at Arthur. “I killed him!” he screeched, moving to bend toward the curly haired man who laid dead on his floor. When the assumed dead body began to rise with a groan, Phichit struck out again, smacking it in the back of the head. “Oh no, now I really killed him!” Phichit wailed, dropping his weapon momentarily to bend down to Arthur’s level. “What am I going to do with him?”

Arthur’s eyes darted around the room and Phichit followed their path, nixing every idea that Arthur seemed to have, until together their eyes fell on Phichit’s wardrobe. Nodding in conspiracy to hide a dead body, Phichit moved across the room to open the wardrobe doors.

Returning to the body on the floor, Phichit wrapped his arms around the man’s waist and dragged him forward. Part of him felt guilty when the man’s face dragged over the floor, but he was dead anyway, so a few scrapes on his face wouldn’t matter. Trying to focus on anything other than the weight of the man, Phichit finally reached the wardrobe, heaving the man into the space legs first. Lacing his arms under the man’s armpits, Phichit did his best to shove the rest of him into the clothes-filled space and slammed the doors shut.

Another groan emitted from the inside of the wardrobe and Phichit swallowed hard, looking at Arthur and whispering “definitely not dead.” Searching for a plan B, Phichit spotted the chairs sitting around the table and flung out his hair to lasso the closest one. Back pressed against the sagging doors of the wardrobe, Phichit dragged the chair back to himself using his ponytail.

Awkwardly, Phichit attempted to keep the wardrobe from opening while he turned the chair and then moved from in front of the doors. Thinking that he had successfully positioned himself, Phichit slowly let the doors open and attempted to catch the falling body. As the man’s head hit the floor, Phichit found himself panicking again over his miscalculation.

Across the room he could hear Arthur’s hamster giggles as Phichit struggled to haul the deadweight body into the chair. Sweating, out of breath, and thoroughly frustrated, Phichit used the remainder of his strength to shove the man back, using his hair to thoroughly secure him in place. Bending sideways, Phichit flinched when his hair tugged from its place around the chair, and he gritted his teeth through the pain as he snagged his frying pan.

His plan was to nudge the stranger awake and demand to know his intentions, but he was interrupted when Arthur started squeaking from his place by the window. Exasperated, Phichit threw up his hands, accidentally smacking his frying pan against the other man’s head again. Hurriedly whispering his apologies, Phichit turned back to Arthur to see why his hamster was freaking out.

The glitter of gemstones was unmistakable inside the open bag which laid strewn across Phichit’s floor. Eyes narrowing, he loosened the grip of his hair so he could move forward and grab the bag. Shushing Arthur, who was trying to warn Phichit against snooping in other’s belongings, he opened the flap and withdrew the gold crown, marveling as the stones continued to catch the sunlight. It was the most exquisite thing Phichit had ever held, and he felt his hands shake as he turned the crown to look at every side.

“Thas mineee,” came a stuttering voice.

Startled, Phichit swung out, this time smacking the man in the head with his own bag. When his head dropped back to his chest, Phichit scrambled to stuff the crown back into the bag, throwing the whole thing under his bed before spinning towards Arthur with a silent plea for help. His best friend blinked at Phichit for a minute before climbing to the side of the window and butting his head against the drawings of the lanterns. In turn, Arthur nodded in the mysterious man’s direction, raising one furry eyebrow with the suggestion.

“Have him…” Phichit pointed in the man’s direction, “take me…” he pointed at his own chest, “to the lanterns?!” He flailed in all directions, arms flinging toward every lantern he had ever drawn. “Are you nuts?!” Phichit was positive Arthur had lost his mind, and stared dumbfounded as Arthur hopped from the table and scaled the man’s leg, tucking himself under the man’s chin to tip his face toward Phichit.

It was then that Phichit realized that he hadn’t attempted to murder just any man, he had attempted to murder the most beautiful man that the world had ever known. Not that he had anyone other than his father and book illustrations to compare him to, but still, Phichit was positive that this man was beautiful. Rolling his eyes at Arthur’s self-satisfied look, Phichit pulled his hamster from the man’s chest and tucked him in his pocket.

Gathering his courage, Phichit nudged the side of the man’s head with his frying pan, leaning close as the man finally came to.

The pain in his head felt very close to the time he had been beaten by an Armenian boxer and Christophe flinched as he attempted to raise his head. Shaking it twice, he tried to focus on his assailant, briefly contemplating if he had somehow made it to heaven when he took in the big gray eyes and blush-covered cheeks. He had been knocked in the head a countless number of times, but somehow it wasn’t until he laid eyes on the man in front of him that he really felt knocked off of his feet.

“What do you want? Who are you?” Phichit tried to sound threatening, narrowing his eyes and lowering his voice as he stepped toward his captive. He tried to ignore the sparkling green eyes and the poutiness of the man’s lips, focusing instead on the fact that the man was a stranger. “Are you here for my virtue or to steal me away? Because I won’t let that happen!” He accented this threat by jabbing the man in the chest with the edge of the frying pan.

“I... um… what?” Christophe couldn’t wrap his head around the nonsense being spewed in his direction. “I’m Christophe Giacometti, I have no interest in your virtue, and all I want is my bag and to leave… preferably before suffering another blow to the head.” When the other man only stared at him, blinking his beautifully innocent  eyes, Christophe tried again. “What is your name?”

Phichit wasn’t sure if he should trust this Christophe but Arthur was pinching him through the fabric of his coat, a not so subtle hint to be brave. Straightening his back, Phichit continued to focus on the green eyes in front of him. “I’m Phichit. And you are going to take me to see the lanterns.”

“The hell?” Christophe exclaimed, feeling like he had completely missed a step.

“I want to see the lanterns. You’re going to take me. Then I will give your bag back.” Phichit felt proud of himself for being so strong, and he raised an eyebrow at Christophe. “Deal?” Feeling Arthur crawl on his shoulder, Phichit looked at his hamster and then back to Christophe.

Studying Phichit carefully, Christophe noted his dilated pupils and the still present flush on his cheeks. He knew one sure-fire way to get what he wanted, and Christophe smirked as he struggled against his restraints. “I have ways you know…” he trailed off, letting his eyes roam over Phichit’s face before coming to rest on Phichit’s lips, “I can make you feel intoxicated, and then you’ll do whatever I want.” Carefully, Christophe licked his lips continuing to flick his gaze between Phichit’s lips and his beautiful eyes.

Phichit and Arthur exchanged a look that was full of doubt, both of them shrugging without a clue as to what Christophe was talking about.

“I didn’t want to have to do this,” Christophe purred, dropping his head slightly to his chest, “but here comes the smolder.” Pouting his lips, with his eyes slightly pinched and his head tilted, Christophe peered up at Phichit.

“Useful!” Phichit chirped, trying not to laugh as the man distorted his face into a look that was distinctly unsexy. Snorting, Phichit acknowledged that his father was right about one thing, real men were absolutely bizarre. Standing back, frying pan twirling in his fingers, Phichit once again proposed his idea. Christophe would take him to see the lanterns and bring him back, and Phichit would give him his satchel back. A simple and even trade as far as Phichit could see.

Contemplating his options, Christophe sighed. If he agreed to take this gorgeous but insane man to the town to see the paper lanterns then he would risk being arrested. If he didn’t agree to take him, he would have to somehow ransack the room and locate his satchel before making his escape. Eying the frying pan in Phichit’s hand, his head banging unpleasantly from the memory of it striking his head, Christophe sighed in defeat. “Alright shorty, I’ll take you to see the lanterns. But then it is back here and goodbye forever, got it?” As Phichit squealed in happiness, dancing in small silly circles, Christophe couldn’t help thinking these were going to be his famous last words.


	2. Cuddly Chick and Glowing Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit is free!  
> Christophe is frustrated over his butt.  
> Tangled's ruffians and thieves are quite different in this AU.  
> Did someone say background Victuuri?  
> Knife shoes.  
> Frying pans.  
> Glowing hair.  
> You are not ready for Christophe's real name.
> 
> Check out ALL of the amazing fanart by [my partner in this AU](https://daysinrussiavictuuri.tumblr.com)  
> and check out this [adorable art of Christophe and his inaccurate wanted poster!](https://daysinrussiavictuuri.tumblr.com/post/167307742845/they-cant-get-my-butt-curve-right)  
> AND because honestly my Mini Me spoils me, [HERE](https://daysinrussiavictuuri.tumblr.com/post/167307742030/lyrics-under-the-cutmore-yuuri-part-im) is the recording of this AU's version of "I've got a dream" (I'm really extra sometimes and rewrote the song for our favorite skaters.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I love Celestino. I know he is the bad guy here, but please know that in canon I actually find him wonderful and amazing! Want proof of that? Please read [Crash Into Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12527876/chapters/28528088) for my take on canon Celestino (in a canon-divergent first meet fic).
> 
> ALSO, my partner (daysinvictuurirussia) just started a Phichimetti fic! Please check it out [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12671925/chapters/28887213) along with all of Days other amazing work!
> 
> Also, because apparently I have done at least something right in my life, I have been gifted [this amazing fanart](https://captdonavin.deviantart.com/art/Prince-Arthur-713271791?ga_submit_new=10%3A1509765968) of my favorite hamster sidekick, Arthur!! Thank you to Capt D (your nickname now lol) for blessing me not only with this art but with all of your incredible support!!

Christophe peered over the windowsill, immediately jumping back when he got another look at the ground below. Closing his eyes, he braced his hands against the stones, mentally preparing himself to climb back down.

Phichit watched him with interest, again exchanging curious glances with Arthur over the other man’s behavior. He wasn’t sure why Christophe was breathing in a strangely uneven pattern, but Phichit squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to find out. “Are you… okay?” Seeing the flush on Christophe’s cheeks, Phichit felt the responding blush take over his own.

“Long way down, huh?” Christophe took another hesitant peek out of the window and quickly shook his head. “What’s with the lack of stairs in this place, anyway?” Taking a step back, Christophe used the question to stall his imminent plunge to certain death. He looked around the room, examining a few of the paintings and pointedly avoiding Phichit’s eye contact.

Panic rose inside of Phichit’s chest. He didn’t want to explain that he wasn’t allowed to leave the tower, because that would make him look like a baby. He would be eighteen in less than a day, and he had no intention of being treated like a little kid, especially not by someone as worldly (and gorgeous) as Christophe. Looking to change the subject, his eyes flicked to the hook outside of his window, and his face spread with a brilliant idea. “I can lower you down,” Phichit suggested, sitting on the edge of the windowsill and looping his hair over the hook. “I know I can, I lift my father all the time.” His hands fluttered at the mention of his father, flinching in Arthur’s direction and hoping Christophe wouldn’t ask any more questions. Busying himself with preparing his hair, Phichit heard Christophe’s little huff behind him.

“Your father?” Christophe took a chance stepping back toward Phichit. He wasn’t going to admit that he was conflicted. He wanted his satchel back and to immediately escape this odd hostage situation, but he was also intrigued by the unrelenting innocence and constant curiosity flickering in Phichit’s eyes. He had been on so many adventures, but aside from the ones involving the Brothers Stupid, he had always been alone. Watching Phichit fidget in an effort to avoid Christophe’s question, he began to question himself. “Phichit? Are you not supposed to leave this place?”

Moving without thinking, Phichit looped his hair around Christophe’s waist and tugged it tight. “Alright! Well! Off you go then! See you down there!” Taking advantage of Christophe’s shock, Phichit shoved him out of the window. When Arthur crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow in Phichit’s direction, Phichit shrugged sheepishly, jumping as Christophe screamed. Together, Arthur and Phichit leaned out of the window to watch as Christophe touched the ground, immediately flinging Phichit’s hair from around his waist with another screech.

“Are you ready for this?” Phichit asked his hamster, biting his lower lip, knowing that he was also asking himself. When Arthur smiled, climbing into Phichit’s pocket with a little hand sticking out to give Phichit a thumbs up, Phichit heaved a sigh and stepped over the windowsill.

The breeze tickled Phichit’s cheek as he slowly lowered himself from the safety of his tower. It was a move that he had dreamed about, that he had thought about during his waking hours, but never had the courage to try. As he lowered further from the oppressive walls of his tower and closer to the possibility of freedom, he couldn’t help smiling down at Christophe. Whoever this man was, he made Phichit feel brave and he was thankful for that even as his apprehension began to get the best of him. His bare feet were curled up underneath him, and he let himself dangle a foot from the ground, his fear starting to hammer in his chest as he lowered his toes into the grass.

Green blades tickled his bare feet as he untangled his hair from the hook at the top of the tower. Flinging his pony tail over his shoulder, Phichit looked up and felt the breath rush from his lungs. He did it, he was free. The elation of this realization struck him and he slapped his hands over his mouth as he giggled. Spinning, he flung his arms out, looking around as he experienced the outside for the first time.

Everything was different than he imagined. Phichit sprinted down the hill hearing Christophe call his name behind him as he waded into the lake. He had seen his father gathering water from this same place and had dreamed of what it would feel like on his own skin. The mud squished between his toes and Phichit felt another giggle bubble free as he splashed in the water.

An angry noise burst from his pocket, and Phichit laughed again, pulling a soaked Arthur from his hiding place. Kissing Arthur’s pouting nose, Phichit placed him on a nearby log and jumped away as Arthur shook the water from his fur. It wasn’t until Christophe reached the side of the lake that Phichit finally stopped his splashing, turning with a wide grin in Christophe’s direction.

Standing on the side of the water, Christophe scolded himself for being so enamored by Phichit’s playful splashing. He didn’t need or want to be emotionally involved with anyone, especially not some happy-go-lucky shut-in. Sighing he sank down next to the damp rodent and pointed a finger toward Phichit. “What’s his deal anyway?” Christophe asked Arthur, realizing that he was speaking to an animal and shaking his head. “I’m losing my mind,” he muttered under his breath, shouting when Phichit splashed water in his direction.

“Arthur doesn’t talk,” Phichit mused, tickling his hamster under the chin, “but he does respond if you talk to him.”

“You talk to your rat?” Christophe asked, poking Arthur and retracting his hand with a snap when little teeth threatened to bite him.

“Hamster,” Phichit corrected, flopping down onto the grass with a happy sigh.

“Your rat’s name is Hamster?” Christophe scratched the back of his head, feeling confused as he looked between them.

“Noooo,” Phichit said, still marveling at the clouds in the sky. “My rat is a hamster.” He smiled as he held up his hands, comparing the cloud shapes to the shapes he was forming with his hands.

“Then who is Arthur?” Throwing his hands out to the side, Christophe felt the exasperation building. It had been easier to communicate with Tweedle-dee-Mickey and Tweedle-dumb-Emil than with Phichit. Next to him, the rodent smacked a paw to its head and fell backwards off of the log.

Scooping Arthur back up, Phichit plunked himself onto the log next to Christophe. “Let’s try this again,” placing Arthur on Christophe’s knee, Phichit smiled. “Christophe meet Arthur, he is my best friend.”

With a dubious look on his face, Christophe let Arthur shake his extended index finger. Arthur looked friendly enough and didn’t seem to be foaming at the mouth so Christophe patted the little guy on the head. _This is what my life has come to_ , he thought to himself, as out loud he said, “so your best friend is a hamster, you live in a tower, and you didn’t have the sense to wear shoes… I’m going to guess that you don’t get out much?” Still idly petting Arthur’s tiny head, Christophe glanced up to see Phichit nervously glancing over his shoulder at the looming presence of the stone cylinder.

“Technically…” Phichit trailed off, looking back to his hands which were folded in his lap. “I’ve never left. If my father knew I did this, he would probably be angry.” The early sign of tears caught on the rims of Phichit’s eyes and Arthur scampered from Chris’s knee onto Phichit’s leg and up his body to rest on Phichit’s shoulder. Phichit smiled softly as the little hands touched his face, closing his eyes and letting out a watery sigh.

Part of Christophe wanted to use this information to his advantage. He was an expert at manipulation when he needed to be, and he knew with the right words he could have Phichit scrambling back up the tower. His first instinct was to blurt out, “well, you don’t want to anger your father, Shorty, maybe you should climb back up there before he finds out you’re missing.” When he watched Phichit’s face fall, the disappointment taking away Phichit’s smile, Christophe felt a tug at his heart. Locking a kid in a tower for their entire life didn’t seem very fatherly, and although Christophe had no parental guidance experience to speak of, he decided that he wasn’t eager to send Phichit back.

Standing from the log, Christophe wrapped his hand around Phichit’s bicep and pulled him to his feet. “Tell ya what Shorty,” Christophe dusted himself off and started back up the hill, “how about I take you to get something to eat, and we’ll go from there? Then if you want to go back to your tower, I’ll bring you back. Yeah?” Keeping a firm grasp on Phichit’s arm, Christophe continued to lead him toward the forest.

Phichit stopped short, bringing Christophe crashing back against him. “Sorry!” Phichit squeaked, placing his hands on Christophe’s back to push him into a standing position. “I just…” looking around, Phichit leaned forward and lowered his voice. “My father said that the world is full of weirdos and beatniks,” he chewed on his bottom lip as Christophe chuckled, “don’t laugh! You aren’t taking me to be around the wrong kind of people are you?”

The look of genuine concern made Christophe’s heart ache a little more in his chest. Phichit was so sweet in his never-ending innocence, that Christophe almost felt bad for what he was about to expose him to. Almost.

“You’ll be fine, Shorty. The place is called Cuddly Chick. That doesn’t sound like a bad place to be, right?” Smiling Christophe started off towards the path through the hanging vines.

Glancing down at Arthur, who had taken his place back in Phichit’s pocket, they both shrugged. “Chicks are pretty innocent,” Phichit reasoned, straightening his shoulders, “I’m sure it will be wonderful.” Resolved to continue on with his plan, Phichit marched over the hill to follow Christophe into the woods.

* * *

 

The dirt path they followed between the low hanging trees was surprisingly devoid of rocks, although Phichit’s toes seemed determined to find even the tiniest stone to stumble on. He remembered Christophe’s remark about shoes and found himself pouting, wondering if he should have taken the time to retrieve a pair of his father’s footwear. His father had lots of boots and he probably wouldn’t have missed a pair, making Phichit regret this misstep with every sharp poking sensation to the bottom of his foot. Deciding to ask Christophe where he could find shoes, Phichit skipped forward, crashing into Christophe’s shoulder as his guide stopped promptly in front of a tree.

“UGH!” Christophe exclaimed, reaching forward to yank a rectangular paper from its nail. “Look at this! It is a disgrace!” Flinging the paper into the air, Christophe stomped away.

Snagging the paper as it floated back down toward the ground, Phichit lifted it to see an oddly specific picture of Christophe. The smirk and the devious green eyes were the same, but as Phichit studied the picture further, he began to giggle uncontrollably at the difference in the picture compared to what was jiggling in front of him.

“Fine, yeah, laugh it up!” yelled Christophe as he continued to clomp down the path. “It isn’t your butt that they can’t seem to draw correctly!” Turning as Phichit caught up to him, Christophe yanked the paper from Phichit’s hands and poked it with ferocity. “Look at this flatness! It is so far off! You would think with as much time as they have spent watching me run away from them, they could at least get my derriere correct.” Narrowing his eyes as Phichit continued to giggle, Christophe once again flung the paper over his shoulder. “Whatever, keep laughing, you wish you had this grade A booty!” Smacking a hand to his left butt cheek, Christophe rolled his eyes when Phichit laughed harder. Storming away again, he heard Phichit yelp and scamper to catch up with him.

It’s not that he wanted the poster demanding his death to be accurate, but his butt was his best feature and it seemed ridiculous that it was the one piece of him they kept messing up. The joke was on them though, because they would have plenty time to study his fabulous gluteus maximus whenever he decided to loot their treasure again. Huffing with his determined indignation, Christophe turned right to head down the path toward the pub that was definitely filled with the most spectacular weirdos and proudest beatniks in the entire kingdom. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Phichit still giggling as he skipped along and Christophe had to reign in his own smile. He absolutely had to stop finding Phichit so appealing, before it became impossible to leave him behind in the tower again.

The music filled the forest, filtering from the tiny open windows of the wooden structure that looked more like a house than a restaurant. Examining the curling smoke from the chimney and the wooden sign with the plump chick, Phichit could feel the excitement growing inside of him. In one day he had met a new person, gotten out of his tower, run through the grass and played in the lake. He was proud of his own bravery and feeling on the self-satisfied side of cocky as he followed Christophe through the heavy wooden door.

Phichit froze, eyes going wide with horror, taking in the overwhelming sights in the small room.

There was a woman with dark red hair winking at him from behind a tall counter, filling glass mugs with an amber colored liquid. Directly in front of her was a man who was too young looking to have a head full of silver hair, and too old to be pouting with such severity. A few stools down from him was another man, hair black and chaotic, glaring into his glass and oblivious to the pouts being thrown in his direction by the first man. Feeling Christophe push on his back, Phichit took a hesitant step forward. “Ummm, Christophe… I…” he didn’t want to sound younger than he was, but as they walked they passed a table with an old man shining his head with a dirty rag and a blond hair boy sharpening a knife attached to the bottom of his shoe. Every person seemed to be watching them, and Phichit turned with a look of concern toward Christophe.

“What’s wrong, Shorty? Never been in a bar before either have you?” Christophe chuckled, trying to nonchalantly weigh the threat around them. Other than the kid with the knife shoes, Christophe thought they looked like a tame bunch, until the oddly quiet man at the end of the bar raised a finger and pointed to the front door.

“That you?” The dark hair bobbed as the man nodded across the room. In slow motion every pair of eyes turned to stare at the picture tacked to the back of the door.  

Narrowing his eyes, Christophe studied yet another unflattering picture of his ass. “You would think just once, they could get it right!” Realizing what he said, Christophe clapped a hand over his mouth, surveying the room for escape routes.

“Agreed,” mumbled the dark-haired man, “the real thing is much better.”

A crash at the bar had Phichit jumping to latch onto Christophe’s side. The gray-haired man came lumbering toward them, grabbing a fistful of Christophe’s shirt. “You trying to steal my man?” he slurred, looking over his shoulder to the scary blond boy. “Toss me that shoe, I’ll cut him into ribbons myself!”

“No way!” screamed the blond, scrambling over the top of his table and kicking the old bald guy in the head, “his bounty is mine!”

The flurry of movement had Phichit gasping as Christophe was ripped from his grasp and dragged into the middle of the arguing group. He could hear Christophe protesting and bargaining, as Phichit desperately searched for a way to help. He had to find a way to get Christophe out of the crowd if he stood any chance of making it to the lanterns by the next day. Looking to Arthur for help, he saw the hamster hand wave toward the bar. Scrambling onto the thin wood surface, Phichit chirped his apologies to the woman behind him before placing his fingers in his mouth and whistling.

All the hands pulling him suddenly halted and Christophe wiggled, setting himself free as he launched forward towards Phichit. Wiping a hand over his brow, he turned letting out a small yelp as the crowd began advancing on him.

“Stop!” Phichit shouted, throwing his hands out, “Please! I need him!” Several snickers escaped from the men in front of him and Phichit felt his face turn red. “Tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday and all I have ever wanted was to see the lanterns. I can’t do it without him,” Phichit squatted down and threw an arm around Christophe’s shoulders. “Please, haven’t you ever had a dream?”

From his place across the bar, the dark-haired man raised his head. “A dream?” he asked, pushing away his beer and getting to his feet. “Yeah, my name is Yuuri, and I’ve had a dream.” Throwing a handful of change into the hat of the piano player, Yuuri slicked his hair back and begin to sing.

_I am average, weak, and weary_

_My outlooks rather dreary_

_And love-life wise, my heart is not that open_

_But despite my weak despair_

_And my crying and my fear_

_I’ve always yearned to be the very best skater_

_Cant’cha see me on the ice performing quad flips_

_Spinning on my blades ‘til they scream_

_Yep, I’d rather be called lovely_

_For my step sequence, doubly!_

Yuuri spun into the air, causing several of the men in the room to swoon as Phichit watched them with concern.

_Thank you!_

_‘Cause way down deep inside_

_I’ve got a dream_

The entire place responded with a two line chorus and Phichit found himself clapping along with renewed joy as Yuuri did another spin.

Christophe pushed away from the bar and out of Phichit’s grasp as he watched the impromptu performance with a perplexed look on his face. People didn’t break out into perfectly rhythmic song, it was weird and unnatural. Ready to make a run for it he was snagged by an arm around his neck, finding Yuuri disturbingly close to his face as the man continued to sing.

_See, I ain’t as odd and shut-off as I seem_

_Though I have an anxious demeanor_

_You can count me with the dreamers_

_Like everybody else_

_I’ve got a dream!_

 “Now Victor!” The crowd shouted, and Phichit whirled in place at the top of the bar to see the silver haired man stumbling forward to shove Christophe from Yuuri’s side. Smiling into the side of Yuuri’s face, Victor began to sing his own verse.

_I’ve got scars, and bumps, and bruises_

_Plus my heart is always loses_

_And let’s not even mention my depression_

_But despite my sorrow woes_

_And my forehead and my toes_

_I really want to make a love connection_

Throwing up his hands, Christophe backed away as he tried to avoid watching Victor serenade Yuuri. He had no interest in being involved in whatever drama was happening there and he tiptoed backwards to try to make a quiet exit. Almost reaching the door, he was yanked back by the old man with the incredibly shiny head and held in place by a bizarrely strong arm around his waist as the room continued to sing its chorus.

Releasing Yuuri, Victor fell back into a chair with his hand on his heart.

_And I know one day romance will reign supreme!_

_Though my Yuuri runs in fright_

_I know someday I’ll get it right_

_Like everybody else_

_I’ve got a dream_

Why Phichit had ever been scared of this magical place was a mystery to him as he clapped along to the cheerful song, smiling at the way the two men were now blushing at each other. Victor leaned back into his chair as everyone else continued to sing and Phichit flung out his ponytail to catch Yuuri’s wrist and yanked him into Victor’s lap.

_JJ would like to quit and be a florist_

_Yuri does interior design_

_Leo’s into mime_

_Mila’s cupcakes are divine_

_Beka knits_

_Sara sews_

_Georgi does little puppet shows_

_And Yakov collects ceramic unicorns_

Still listening to the song, Phichit had his eyes on Victor and Yuuri, cheering when they began to kiss. He almost missed the rest of the chorus line surrounding Christophe against a wall.

“I’m sorry fellas, but I don’t sing!” Christophe declared, jumping back when every one of them produced a knife attached to a shoe. Still terrifyingly baffled by the odd weaponry, Christophe leaned his head away praying he wouldn’t get his neck sliced open. Realizing he had only one way out, he ducked around the arms of the group and skidded into the side of the bar closest to Phichit.

_I have dreams, like you, no really!_

_A few are touchy-feely_

_But they focus on being far from here_

_In a castle all my own_

_Fed and happy, on a throne_

_Surrounded by enormous piles of roses_

It was impossible not to laugh as Christophe did an awkward jig on the floor in front of Phichit, elbows and knees lifting in tandem beats. Giggling behind his hands again, Phichit waited until Christophe was finished to add his own lines into the mix.

_I’ve got a dream!_

_I just want to see the floating lanterns gleam!_

_And with every passing hour_

_I’m so glad I left my tower_

_Like all you lovely folks_

_I’ve got a dream!_

“Take it home!” Phichit yelled, spinning in another happy circle as the rest everyone continued to sing.

_He’s got a dream_

_They’ve got a dream_

_So our diff’rences ain’t_

_Really that extreme!_

_Call us simple_

_Thick_

_Pathetic_

_And romantically optimistic!_

_‘Cause way down deep inside_

_We’ve got a dream!_

He never saw Victor and Yuuri exchanged a glance with the woman behind him, and before Phichit could catch himself, he was falling off the bar and into Christophe’s arms.

The heartbeat in Christophe’s ears drowned out the rest of the song as he held Phichit close to his chest. Phichit’s knees were hooked over Christophe’s forearm and Christophe’s other arm cradled his back. Feeling Phichit’s arms circle his neck, and Phichit’s breath ghosting over his lips, Christophe felt helpless to the pull bringing him within kissing distance of Phichit. Eyes flickering from Phichit’s stunned smile to his sparkling eyes, Christophe braced himself and began to lean in.

The door to the bar slammed open, causing Christophe to drop Phichit on the ground. Whirling, he saw the white muzzle of his furriest enemy and immediately sprang into evasive action. Snagging Phichit’s wrist, he dragged him behind the bar, pressing them both back against the knotty wood as Phichit snatched his frying pan from its discarded place on the counter.

“Hey,” the barmaid whispered, squatting down to pull open a trap door, “go, live your dream.”

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Christophe nodded solemnly. “Thank you,” he said pushing Phichit toward the door as the horse began to knock tables over in his quest to arrest Christophe.

“Not you, idiot,” the woman said rolling her eyes. “Your dream is selfish and stupid, live his dream,” nodding over her shoulder to Phichit’s disappearing back. Using both hands she seized Christophe’s shoulders, shoving him through the opening and slamming the door behind him.

“Rude!” Christophe remarked, brushing off his pants as he righted himself on the stairs. From inside the building he heard the voices of palace guards and then the distinct voices of two men who he had never planned on seeing again. Running a hand through his hair, Christophe jogged down the stairs and threw an arm around Phichit, putting a fake smile on his face as if nothing was wrong. “So tomorrow is your birthday, huh?”

“Yes,” Phichit stuttered nervously, his mind still fuzzy from Christophe holding him. He had read about fairy tale kisses in his stolen storybook, and he had been positive that Christophe was about to kiss him, but it had been interrupted by the confusing entrance of a white horse and Christophe’s desire for a hasty exit.

Arthur squeaked from Phichit’s pocket, and Phichit hissed his response. His hamster had suggestively slid the wanted poster from Phichit’s pocket as they had made their own way down the stairs, making it known that Phichit may not have picked the most stand-up guy to guide him around. They had been debating asking Christophe about it, the debate cut short by Christophe’s inquiry about Phichit’s birthday.

“That’s funny,” Christophe said, kicking a rock as they continued down the path, “you share a birthday with the lost prince. No wonder you wanted to see the lanterns so badly.” Stopping, Christophe turned around to see Phichit staring at him with wide eyes.

“So…” Phichit’s brows were furrowed together, “then the story is true? I thought…” rubbing his palm against his head, Phichit leaned back against a rock. “I thought that it was only a story. A fairy tale to… I don’t know,” his hands flopped at his sides as Phichit tried to collect his thoughts. “I thought maybe it was a fairy tale about the lanterns, something someone made up. I didn’t think it was real.” There was an ache in the back of his mind, almost like a memory trying to fight its way out. Maybe his father had told him about this when he was little, but for some reason Phichit didn’t thank that was it. His father didn’t believe in fairy tales, which was why Phichit was surprised to discover the book in the first place. Feeling himself getting light-headed, Phichit squeezed his eyes shut, only opening them again when he felt strong hands on his shoulders.

For a moment Christophe considered the young man in front of him with the curious eyes and irresistible spirit. _If everything the townspeople had always said about the lost prince was true…_ Christophe shook his head at his own ridiculousness, taking the few strides back to Phichit’s side. “Shorty,” Christophe said, hands cupping Phichit’s shoulders to shake him a little. Waiting until Phichit was looking at him, Christophe smiled, “how about we find our way out of this tunnel and then we’ll talk about it, okay?” He was trying to sound caring, when only part of him could concentrate at the moment. The palace guards had been disturbingly close to capturing them and Christophe was eager to add some distance between themselves and the Cuddly Chick. Seeing Phichit nod, Christophe reached down and laced his fingers into Phichit’s pulling him toward the light at the end of the tunnel.

Stepping out into the sun, Phichit blinked trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing and the sensation of his hand wrapped into Christophe’s. He wasn’t sure what was more breath-taking, the rocks rising all around them or Christophe’s calloused thumb rubbing on the back of his hand, but Phichit stumbled over his own feet as he tried to process everything at once.

The sound of shifting gravel to their right had them both whipping around to see two men sprinting down another tunnel. Raising his frying pan, Phichit shoved Christophe behind him, asking in a shaking voice, “who are those guys?”

“GIACOMETTI!” They growled in unison, slowing their pursuit to a deadly crawl with their swords raised.

“Oh!” Christophe exclaimed, threading an arm around Phichit’s waist to pull him behind Christophe’s back. “If it isn’t you guys. How’s it hanging guys? Seen any good puppet shows recently?” Guiding Phichit backwards toward the edge of the rock, Christophe awkwardly laughed as commotion in the other direction began to thunder towards them.

Phichit yelped when the horse from the restaurant burst through the tunnel followed by six men in golden armor. “Who are they?” he squealed, reaching over Christophe’s shoulder with his frying pan in the direction of their newest attackers.

“Alright, Shorty, let’s say, for the sake of simplicity, that none of these guys like me very much.” Lowering his voice, Christophe forced Phichit to move another step back, “use your hair to swing to the next platform if you can, give me your frying pan.” Reaching a slow hand up to his shoulder, Christophe jolted forwarded as Phichit sprung from his back. As Christophe began to swing the frying pan, first colliding with the rusted sword of Mickey before smashing against Mickey’s jaw, Phichit swung himself to safety.

Spinning on his back foot, Christophe swung out again, narrowly missing Emil’s sword and smacking the back of Emil’s head as Emil stumbled forward with his own momentum. “Two down, seven uglies to go!” Christophe taunted, bouncing the handle of the frying pan in his hand before sweeping it in front of him to clash against the guards’ swords and daggers.

 All six guard fell unconscious onto the ground as Christophe admired his new favorite weapon. “Frying pans,” he chuckled, thinking there had to be a way to market them, when he was caught off guard by a blade in his face. “Really?” he groaned, throwing his arm up to whack at the sword being held between the horse’s teeth. “I’ve done… _umph_ … a lot of strange things,” Christophe ducked, throwing the frying pan over his head to block the horse’s stabbing attack “but sword fighting a horse, might take the cake.” Rolling to his left, Christophe caught the flash of dark hair swinging his way and threw up his hand. Flying into the air with the help of the hair rope, Christophe saluted his sparring partner, “farewell my little pony!” he taunted, letting Phichit fling him onto the nearest water flume.

Landing with a thud on his butt, Christophe groaned as he began sliding down the unstable structure, feeling it shake underneath him. Feeling every bruise get its beginning against the jointed wood, Christophe tried to rapidly assess his declining safety.

“Christophe, watch out!” Phichit screamed, seeing the support beams beginning to crack as Christophe’s weight bent them out of shape.

The noise was unbearable as the beams begin to fall, crushing their support systems on the way down. Christophe heard himself yell at Phichit to run, bracing himself for impact as the flume took a sickening turn toward the still too-distant ground. Feeling nauseous, Christophe twisted his body, jumping at the last second to roll away from the splintering wood. Flipping into a standing position, he began to sprint, grabbing Phichit’s hand again. The roar of the water rushing from behind them spurred them forward into the opening of a lower tunnel.

Water cascaded behind them from the destroyed flumes as the rock supports tumbled over the entrance. Feet swept from underneath him, Phichit felt his head pulled under the water, desperately clawing for any possible hold on the slippery rock. The panic was setting in when he felt fingers wrap around his wrist and yank him upward.

“Are you alright?” Christophe asked, reaching forward to worriedly push the hair from Phichit’s face, “you aren’t hurt are you? Where’s Arthur?” Hands still cupped on Phichit’s cheeks, Christophe laughed a shaky chuckle when Arthur appeared on Phichit’s shoulder, spitting water angrily from his cheeks. “Stay here, I’m going to see if there is a way out.” Leaving a stunned Phichit behind, Christophe dove in hopes of finding an exit.

It was so dark that Phichit’s eyes were hurting with the effort to adjust. He could barely see his hand in front of his face, startling when Christophe reappeared in front of him.

“It’s no use,” Christophe huffed, his chest burning with the strain of holding his breath, “it is too dark down there.” He felt the finality of their situation weigh on his shoulders, heaving now from their inevitable demise instead of his own fatigue.

Phichit pinched his nose and went to duck under water, stopped before he passed the surface by Christophe grabbing his arms. “It’s no use, I said!” Christophe dropped his hands to push his hair back from his forehead. “This is it, there’s no way out.” He avoided looking at Phichit, instead closing his eyes to try to accept their fate.

“I’m so sorry,” Phichit felt the tears begin to roll down his cheeks, each one creating a ripple as it dropped into the water. “This was my mess and my idea, and now…” his words hitched as he tried to breathe through his sobs, “now we are going to die because of some stupid lanterns!” Burying his face in his hands, Phichit let the sobs take over.

“Stop,” Christophe whispered, lifting his own hands to peel Phichit’s away from his face. “Life is about taking chances. This might not have been the best one, but wouldn’t you rather die knowing you took a chance than live the rest of your life knowing you didn’t?” He couldn’t resist the urge to reach forward and kiss Phichit on the forehead. If they were going to die in this tunnel, at least he could fulfill that one desire. Sighing, he decided there was something else he needed to do. “Hey,” Christophe nudged Phichit’s chin with his index finger. “My real name is Chris Schlongoutter. I guess… someone should know, if we are going to die here.”

If they weren’t sitting on the edge of their own death beds, Phichit would have laughed. Instead he raised an eyebrow in Christophe’s direction, unable to form any of the questions he wanted to ask. With no idea how to handle the information, Phichit shoved his face in the water, eyes wide in search of an escape point. Pulling back up to look at Christophe, Phichit shook the water from his hair. “It’s too dark.”

Nodding with a defeated expression, Chris accepted Phichit’s silence on his name. It was better than outright laughter or mocking, and he decided to take the lack of a remark as a good thing. Reaching a hand up to cup Phichit’s cheek again, Chris tried to smile. “Unless you have a light, or that crazy long hair of yours has magical powers, I’m afraid this is our final resting place.” Scooting closer to Phichit, Chris studied his face, looking for a sign that maybe he could kiss Phichit again. A dying man’s last wish and all.

Phichit was leaning toward Chris when he suddenly registered what Chris had said. “Wait!” Phichit yelled, jumping backwards and tossing Arthur from his shoulder. Plucking his friend from the water, Phichit placed Arthur on Chris’s shoulder and grinned. “My hair glows,” he said excitedly, lifting his ponytail in between his hands. Ignoring Chris’s sputtering, Phichit began to sing, causing the gold stripe in his impossibly long hair to glow like a ray straight from the sun. Pleased with himself, he grabbed Arthur from Chris’s shoulder and shouted “follow me!” Diving, Phichit waited until Chris caught up, both of them swimming as fast as they could toward the lit exit.

The tunnel was small in circumference and they had to work quickly to dislodge several rocks. As they knocked the last one aside, the pressure in their trapped cavern popped and they were pulled into the walls of the tunnel and dumped out into a stream. Kicking hard, Phichit forced his body toward the ground’s edge, flinging his torso up to catch himself on the grass. “I did it!” he squealed turning to look as Chris threw himself down next to him.

“His hair glows,” Chris heaved, dropping his head to the ground as Phichit scrambled to his feet. Looking to his right, Chris saw Arthur shake his fur dry and exclaimed, “has it always done that?” Arthur’s smug smirk did nothing to alleviate his confusion. “I have so many questions,” Chris whispered in a hush, pushing up from the ground and wincing at the pain in his leg. Looking down, he felt slightly faint as he noted the gash in his thigh.

Phichit turned to see if Chris was following, in time to see Chris wobble and lose his balance. Rushing forward, Phichit threw Chris’s arm over his shoulder and led him to the nearest fallen tree. Lowering Chris down, Phichit took a seat next to him and examined the wound.

Biting his lip, Phichit began to hesitantly gather his hair around his hands, laying it over Chris’s lap. He had already revealed that his hair glowed, revealing that it has magic healing powers shouldn’t be an issue. Taking a deep breath, Phichit began to sing.

_Sunshine warm and bright_

_Bring your gift of light_

_Heal the wounds with ease_

_I ask you for this please_

_Reverse the hurtful fate_

_Erase this pained mistake_

_Turn back the hands of time_

_Give back what once was mine_

 

Shifting in confused alarm, Christophe attempted to lean away from Phichit as the gold highlight of Phichit’s hair began to glow again. It started at Phichit’s part, and rolled through the golden streak brightening each strand as it finally reached the bundle pressed against Chris’s thigh. Gasping, he felt the warmth take over his leg, his entire body shivering as Phichit sat back.

Where there had been a bloody gash only moments before, there was only perfectly intact fabric without a single sign of blood. Flexing his leg, Chris didn’t feel any amount of pain, and stunned he lifted his eyes to Phichit’s.

“Surprise,” Phichit chortled, lifting his hands to shrug, “my hair is magic.” He couldn’t gauge how Chris was taking the news so he kept going, “that’s why my father never let me leave the tower. He said the men of this world would want to kidnap me and use me for my hair’s powers.” Nervously, Phichit dropped his gaze to his linked fingers. “You must think I’m a freak.” His father told him that people would only fall into two categories, those who would use him for his hair and those who would ridicule him for its power. Chris seemed frightened so Phichit was sure his companion was going to fall into the latter group.

“I think you’re unique,” Chris said as he finally found his voice, letting his mind continue to whirl even as he tried to reassure Phichit. Reaching out, he took Phichit’s hand in his. “I think you are beautiful,” he squeezed Phichit’s hand, swallowing back his own nerves, realizing that magic hair or not, Phichit was the most wonderful person he had ever met. “I’ll protect you, I promise.” Christophe smiled as Phichit raised watery eyes in his direction.

“Thank you,” Phichit whispered, trying to push away all the feelings that were rushing up inside of him. He had only read about love in his book, but he thought maybe this is what it felt like. Shuffling closer to Chris, Phichit peered into Chris’s green eyes. “So…” biting his bottom lip, Phichit gathered his courage, “tell me about Chris Schlongoutter.” He was proud of himself for not giggling.

“Hm.” Chris looked away from Phichit and out over the river. That was not what he had been expecting, and he wasn’t exactly sure what Phichit would think of his real past. Knowing that Phichit had trusted him to share an even bigger secret, Chris took a deep breath and began to talk. “There isn’t much to tell. My parents died before I could remember them and I was raised in an orphanage. When you grow up having nothing, you don’t expect much for your life. So I started traveling around, figuring if I had to be poor, I might as well do it while exploring.” Chris couldn’t help his hum when Phichit rested his head on Chris’s shoulder.

“You must have been everywhere,” Phichit shuffled his feet against the ground, heart racing as he snuggled against Chris, “and the wanted posters? Why does the palace want you so badly?”

“Because everyone does,” Chris leaned to the side to throw an awkward wink in Phichit’s direction. When Phichit raised an eyebrow at him, Chris rolled his eyes. “I took something that wasn’t mine,” he shrugged, knowing that Phichit’s entire opinion about him was about to change. “Growing up poor, I also learned the useful skill of stealing.” Hanging his head, Chris couldn’t stand the thought of Phichit’s reaction. Releasing Phichit’s hand, he pushed up from the log. “I’m going to grab fire wood. It will be dark soon.” Phichit still hadn’t responded and Chris could feel the bile rising in his throat.

“Chris?” Phichit called, waiting until Chris turned back around with a lost look on his face. “You know, I like you, just as you are. No matter what name you use or what your life has been.” Feeling his heart flutter, Phichit continued to smile even after Chris had turned to disappear into the words. He was positive that the beating of his heart and the nervous feeling in his stomach were signs that he was falling in love, and Phichit rocked back, excitedly pressing his knuckles to his lips and as he silently squealed.

“Shacking up with a thief, are we?”

Cold, dark fear slammed through Phichit’s body as the familiar voice sounded from behind him. Stomach churning, he turned, standing to face the intimidating figure of his father.

“No answer for your father?” Celestino took a step toward Phichit, black cape floating behind him as he looked down his nose. “Phichit, darling, you had me worried sick. I came home to find my baby boy missing. Can you imagine how that felt?” Closing the distance between them, Celestino raised a hand to stroke it through Phichit’s hair, fingers catching around the golden strands. “Thank goodness you’re safe.”

Phichit couldn’t speak. His father wasn’t yelling, but the guilt Phichit felt for worrying him was strangling him nonetheless. Leaning into the caress of his father’s fingers, Phichit startled when his father gave a light yank to his hair.

“You’ve had your fun.” Celestino noted, stepping back to put space between them again. “Now let’s go home.”

Blindly, Phichit began to follow his father, his nearly eighteen years of obedience preventing him from doing anything else. It was Arthur’s squeak, paired with the growing sound of Chris’s voice that had him stopping. “Father,” Phichit lifted his head, determination setting his jaw. “I want to see the lanterns. You don’t have to take me, I am safe with Chris, he cares about me, and I will come back tomorrow, I promise. Please trust me.” The last sentence came out with the hint of a begging tone, and Phichit winced at his own weakness.

“Safe?” Celestino’s chuckle was a deadly rumble in his chest. “With that thief? Oh Phichit, you have so much to learn about the world.” Holding up a leather bag, Celestino raised his eyebrow before tossing the bag into Phichit’s arms. “Give him that. See if he still cares about you then. And when he leaves you, in the middle of these woods to fend for yourself. Well my dear boy…” Celestino stepped into the shadows, “don’t come crawling back to me.”

In a flash Phichit’s father was gone, disappearing into the trees as if he had never been there in the first place. The weight of the satchel in Phichit’s hands told him otherwise, and he hurriedly stuffed it into the open end of the log as he heard Christophe’s footsteps approaching.

“Is there any chance I’m going to get superpowers from your hair trick?” Christophe teased, stacking the fire wood onto the ground. “I mean my ass is already pretty magical, but superhuman strength in my thighs… well I could find a use for that.”

Watching Chris build the fire, Phichit laughed quietly, trying to ignore his father’s words as they danced sinister circles in his mind. When Chris smiled over his shoulder, cheeks flushed with heat from the building fire, and green eyes tinted with hope, Phichit decided that his father didn’t know everything and he would prove him wrong.

Glancing back at the place where he had hidden the satchel, Phichit leaned down next to Chris to get a lesson in fire building. It felt right, being there together, and Phichit planned to cling to that feeling for as long as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless the existence of [atelerixe](https://atelerixe.tumblr.com) without her, who knows what UNFALTERING things I would post ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adventures in Town 
> 
> See art of the beautiful lantern scene [here](https://n3rdlif343va.tumblr.com/post/167963855794/n3rdlif343va-daysinrussiavictuuri-je-veux) and listen to [I see the light on YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cr352RGs9Y)
> 
> Also a second recording of my rewritten version of "I have a dream" can be found [here](https://n3rdlif343va.tumblr.com/post/175623438178/n3rdlif343va-fullmetalkarneval13-this-is-my)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy, so look what's back! I actually finished this story, but I need to finish editing the last chapter/epilogue. I have no idea if anyone is still interested in this, but honestly, I needed a reason to smile today, so I am posting the next chapter. If you feel up for it, please leave me a comment because that would definitely brighten my life right now. 
> 
> Please consider checking out any of my [115 other YOI Works!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdlife4eva/works?fandom_id=11444638)
> 
> Come find me on Twitter or Tumblr :)  
> [NeRdLife4Eva Twitter](https://twitter.com/NeRdLife4Eva)  
> [n3rdlif343va Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/n3rdlif343va)

Birds chirped from their places in the trees, a cheerful song greeting the sun as it broke over the forest. Sunlight trickled through the branches, rays highlighting the beauty of the man sleeping underneath Phichit’s chin. Raising a hesitant hand, Phichit pushed Chris’s curls from his forehead, admiring how innocent Chris looked with his long eyelashes resting peacefully against his cheeks.

For a moment, Phichit wondered if he could be the prince in this story. Chris’s mouth was parted, quiet breaths escaping through the beautifully pink lips making Phichit lick his own in temptation. He wondered what it would feel like to press his lips to Chris’s, to feel them move together. Phichit had spent years reading about the magic of kisses and his heart sped up in his chest as he stroked Chris’s cheek, leaning forward with his eyes slipping closed.

Stomping hooves had Chris shooting awake, toppling Phichit onto his back and making Arthur jump into the closest hole in the ground with a squeak. Using his heels to scramble backwards, Chris’s back hit the solid mass of a fallen tree trunk, his face reeling back as the nose of his most determined pursuer puffed agitated air in his face.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Attempting to slide sideways, Chris crept along the log, exclaiming when the horse headbutted him. “That hurt!” Shoving to his feet, Chris puffed up his chest. The world instantly turned upside down when the horse clamped down on his ankle and lifted Chris into the air.

“Wow, wow, wow!” Phichit yelled, hands raised and taking deliberate steps toward Chris’s upside-down body. He stifled a laugh when Chris’s boot slipped off his foot, depositing Chris back on the ground in a crumpled heap.

“Meet Seung Gil,” Chris waved a hand in the horse’s direction, swatting back at the white muzzle when the horse knocked his shoulder. “He is a menace.” Dodging Seung Gil’s attempts to grab him again, Chris snagged his boot, hopping backwards while pulling it on and simultaneously glaring at his white-haired enemy.

“Seung Gil…” Phichit glanced between Chris and the proud horse who was still looking ready to murder him. “The horse has a man’s name?” Confused, Phichit reached out to stroke the horse’s long mane, fingers tangling in the prominent amount of knots. Jumping back when Seung Gil swung to look at him, Phichit raised his hands again. “I’m sorry! It’s a lovely name!” Tentatively, Phichit reached out his hand again, making a soft shushing noise as the horse shook his head. “It’s ok, I get lots of knots too. Can I get them out for you?” Carefully, Phichit worked his fingers through the horse’s hair, pulling the knots gently apart as he talked.

“Do you want to arrest my friend?” Phichit asked, looking to the horse’s face for confirmation. He smiled when Seung Gil huffed, shooting a glare in Chris’s direction. Chris, being very mature himself, stuck his tongue out at the horse. Rolling his eyes, Phichit cautiously began to braid Seung Gil’s mane. “See, but you can’t arrest him,” Phichit shook his head when Seung Gil whinnied at him. “I need him to take me to see the lanterns. Today is my birthday,” smiling Phichit kissed Seung Gil’s nose when he made a sound of congratulations. “Thank you,” Phichit stroked down the horse’s nose, ignoring Chris’s unsubtle gripes about the horse getting kisses.

“All I have ever wanted was to see the lanterns and they only float one day a year. This day.” Reaching around the horse’s chest, Phichit snagged Chris’s wrist and pulled him closer. “Chris has promised to take me and protect me because I have never been to a big town before. I’ve never been anywhere before.” Furrowing his brow at Seung Gil’s stomping hoof of protest, Phichit placed his hands on his hips. “I need him, Seung Gil. You can come with us and after he gets me where I am going and home again, you two can chase each other until you collapse for all I care.”

“Hey!” Chris shouted, stepping backwards and stumbling when Seung Gil poked his belly with a sharp tap of his hoof. “Don’t I get a say in this?” Grumbling, Chris rubbed his stomach and bent to retrieve Arthur from his hiding place in the ground. “You don’t like this big mean horse, do you Arthur?” Desperate for someone to be on his side, Chris pouted toward Arthur’s tiny face.

Leaning around Chris’s head, Arthur sniffed toward Seung Gil. Scurrying up Chris’s arm, Arthur moved to get a better look, his nose twitching and his butt wiggling with excitement. When Seung Gil reached forward with his nose, Arthur scrambled up to take a place between Seung Gil’s ears. “Great! Everyone likes him better than me!” Crossing his arms over his chest, Chris sat on the fallen tree.

Phichit and Arthur exchanged eyes rolls while Seung Gil proudly shook his head. Plunking down next to Chris, Phichit batted his eyelashes. “Chris, would I have begged him to not arrest you if I liked him better?” Crawling his fingers up Chris’s upper arm, Phichit tugged lightly on Chris’s earlobe. “Don’t be grumpy, it’s my birthday.” Resting his chin on Chris’s elbow, Phichit poked out his bottom lip.

“I don’t like how cute you are when you make that face, Shorty.” Gently, Chris flicked Phichit’s bottom lip, feeling his heart melt in his chest at Phichit’s brightening smile. He hated how easily Phichit could reverse his mood, but mostly he hated how he didn’t actually hate it at all. “Alright,” standing up, Chris offered Phichit his hand, “let’s get going then.” He grunted when Seung Gil bent forward offering Phichit a spot on his back. “You have to be kidding…”

With an excited squeal, Phichit climbed onto Seung Gil’s back, offering his hand to Chris. When Chris went to swing his leg over the horse’s back, Seung Gil took a step sideways, causing Chris to miss and roll across the ground. Arthur squeaked in laughter from his place on Seung Gil’s head.

“You know, I thought we were friends,” Chris scowled, wagging a finger at Arthur who shut his mouth with a tiny click. “Fine, I’ll walk, are you happy?” Flicking the edge of Seung Gil’s ear, Chris jumped back before the horse could retaliate. Pulling his vest down over his belt, Chris straightened his back and strode forward.

From his place on Seung Gil’s back, Phichit glanced over his shoulder at the hole where the satchel was stowed inside of the fallen tree trunk. Leaning forward to whisper in Seung Gil’s ear, Phichit held his breath as the horse leaned down, capturing the satchel in his teeth and angling his head so Phichit could take hold of it. Shoving it into the bag hanging from Seung Gil’s saddle, Phichit watched Chris’s back praying he wouldn’t turn around. Relieved when it was stowed without being seen, Phichit patted Seung Gil’s head and held on when the horse started to move forward on the path toward town.

* * *

 

 “Oh wow!” Phichit said the same two words for the fifth time since he had dismounted from Seung Gil’s back at the center of town. He couldn’t stop spinning, trying to take in all the sights at once as his hair tripped innocent bystanders and upended stacks of pottery and baked goods.

Chris had been frantically catching the wares of the local marketers, apologizing on Phichit’s behalf while also unable to keep his eyes off of Phichit’s adorably awed expression. Every single time Phichit discovered something new, he would squeal and run for his discovery with an enthusiasm that was leaving Chris more than a little breathless. Unfortunately, the venders around the town square were not as enamored with Phichit and his excited darting, leaving Chris with a trail of agitated people to appease.

Spotting a group of girls sitting around the fountain braiding each other’s hair, Chris got an idea. Putting an arm around Phichit’s waist to slow his destructive progress through town, he whistled to the group of children, pointing toward Phichit’s hair with a suggestive head tilt. The little girls squealed with delight, rushing from their resting place to grab Phichit’s hands and drag him back with them.

Smiling at Phichit’s unfailing ability to charm anyone, Chris leaned against the nearest shop to watch as Phichit told the group of girls stories while they wound braids and flowers into his hair. A puff of air on his neck had Chris looking sideways, balking at the matching knowing looks Seung Gil and Arthur were giving him. “What?!” he questioned, throwing his arms out. “Forget you two.” Annoyed Chris waved them off, stomping away to the nearest stand. He tried in vain to ignore their animal versions of laughter, his cheeks burning as he browsed the cart full of apples.

Trading three gold coins for a loaf of bread, cheese and hard meat, Chris turned to where Phichit had been sitting. Feeling panic rise in his chest, Chris spun in circles trying to locate his now missing companion. A nudge on his shoulder had him spinning again, following Seung Gil’s nod to discover Phichit standing near another stand, cradling a baby in his arms.

“Oh, she never sleeps so soundly! She’s been crying for hours! You must be magic,” cooed a tired looking woman, her hair frazzled and the bags under her eyes looking days old. Approaching the pair, Chris felt his heart bounce into his throat when Phichit smiled up at him, the sleeping child peacefully slumbering in his arms.

“I… um…” Chris couldn’t speak around his tied tongue, the soft scene in front of him bringing too many thoughts rushing into his mind. Clearing his throat and feeling his ears burn again with Seung Gil and Arthur’s amused huffing, Chris ran a hand through his hair. “If you want to keep holding her… I will… I can feed you. You must be hungry.” Looking to the sky, Chris tried to get whatever emotions were building in his chest to calm down.

“May I please keep holding her?” Phichit requested, looking back down to smile at the baby. He rocked gently from side to side, humming under his breath, glancing up to peer at the child’s mother.

“Oh, that would be lovely!” the woman exclaimed, wiping the corner of her apron across her forehead. “But please, don’t ruin your meal. Bring her back should she cause any trouble!” Giving Phichit a grateful hug, the mother kissed her baby before returning to her place behind her stand selling flags and other royal memorabilia.

Placing a hand on Phichit’s back, Chris guided them to an empty bench in the shade. Instinctually, Chris supported Phichit as he sat, holding his breath when the baby wiggled in her sleep. “You’re a natural it seems.” Chris failed to keep the fondness out of his voice, settling next to Phichit on the bench and tearing a piece of bread to distract his fluttering heart.

“I’ve never seen a baby before,” Phichit whispered, arms carefully rocking the infant in his arms. “I didn’t know they are so tiny and smell so good.” Leaning down he pressed a kiss to the soft skin of the child’s cheek. A tap on his own cheek had him looking up, nose colliding with the bite of meat and bread being offered at the tip of Chris’s fingers. Shyly, Phichit opened his mouth.

Chris told himself he didn’t feel the tingles when his fingers brushed Phichit’s lips. He let his eyes linger on Phichit’s mouth, his hand blindly groping at the bread in his lap and tearing a piece for himself. He lifted it to his mouth, flinching when he realized how big the piece was and then shoving the entire thing in his mouth when Phichit gave him a curious look. “Rwealwy hwungwy,” he tried to say around his mouthful.

Phichit snorted, chewing the food in his mouth and pretending that Chris wasn’t the cutest man he had ever seen. Up until their arrival in the Cuddly Chick, Chris had been the only man Phichit had ever seen, but his sample size had grown larger in the last twenty-four hours and he still believed Chris firmly held the top spot. _Not that I would tell him that_ , Phichit silently decided. Smirking when another bite was offered to his lips, Phichit took it, nipping at Chris’s fingers and giggling when Chris jumped.

They sat quietly, Phichit letting Chris feed him and alternating between staring at the baby in his arms and watching the town life bustle around them. It was overwhelming in the best way possible and Phichit felt the excitement as if it was born inside of his own heart. He watched as the baby’s mother talked with other townspeople, laughing and selling her handmade gifts. Her shoulders were relaxed and every time she looked Phichit’s way, her smile was kind.

No one was judging him or trying to cut his hair or even asking him about it. Not a single person had treated Phichit any different than the familiar faces of the town or shown him any hostility. Everything his father had told him was in contrast to every interaction Phichit had experienced since the moment Chris had fallen through his tower window.

“Thank you.”

Shaking his head, Phichit pulled himself from his own mind. He let the baby be lifted from his arms, blushing when the woman kissed the top of his head. “You take care of him now,” the woman placed a hand on Chris’s shoulder and squeezed. “Men like him,” she winked at Phichit, “don’t come around very often.” Cradling her infant in one arm, she laid a small purple flag over Phichit’s knee. “For your kindness.” With one more pat to Phichit’s head, she returned to her stand.

Holding the flag up to block the sunlight, Phichit smiled at the bright yellow sun in the middle of it. “I want to draw this,” Phichit stated.

“Okay,” Chris agreed, pushing up from the bench and snagging Phichit’s wrist. “Well come on,” he encouraged, leading Phichit toward a group of artists. Falling back, Chris let Phichit talk his way into borrowing chalk and taking over a place of his own.

The sound of clicking metal had Chris ducking his head, hiding his face from the palace guards walking through the square. Tension seeped into his shoulders as he kept himself tucked close to the wall. Warmth touching his side made him wince, peeking over his shoulder and becoming confused at Seung Gil standing in front of him, blocking him from view. “Seun-” He curled his lips in over his teeth with the stern look the horse shot back at him. Sighing, Chris patted Seung Gil lightly on the head. “Right, it’s not for me. I get it.”

Peeking over Seung Gil’s head, Chris watched as Phichit moved gracefully over the ground, the sun he was creating bursting with light as if it was capturing the rays directly from the sky. “Can we maybe…” Chris waved a hand in return of Phichit’s happy wave, feeling his smile become smitten. Clearing his throat when he noted Seung Gil’s expression, Chris patted the horse’s back. “How about a truce? For Phichit’s sake. We both like him, right?” He smiled when Seung Gil huffed, his long neck bobbing up and down in agreement.

Sitting back on his heels, Phichit examined the sun which had always been a part of his mind. It was so familiar it was more like a memory than an image crafted by Phichit’s imagination. He smiled at the similarities between his sun and the suns decorating the town, his heart jumping as people gathered around to compliment his work.

“Okay, okay,” a burly man with a mandolin stepped into the middle of the group around Phichit. “Now that our dance floor has been properly decorated, let’s celebrate!” He strummed the first few notes, nodding his head and welcoming the rest of the musicians next to him by the fountain.

A pair of strong hands pulled Phichit to his feet, belonging to a man who bowed low in request of a dance. Bursting out in laughter, Phichit bowed back, letting himself get swept up into the spinning steps.

Jealously was not an emotion Chris was comfortable with, and therefore turned his back on the dancing people, refusing to witness the number of adoring looks Phichit was getting from his various dance partners. He shouted when a set of strong teeth clamped on his shoulder, dragging him backwards and throwing him into the middle of the dance. Delicate hands pinched at his waist and Chris reacted by catching the woman in front of him, spinning on his heels and twirling her in an expert circle.

Steadying himself from yet another spin, Phichit caught sight of Chris guiding his own partner on the other side of the circle. He admired the way Chris moved, as if the motion was natural and unconscious, his body gliding with the music in a hypnotizing manner. Letting himself be lead, Phichit twirled to the center of the square, arm brushing past Chris’s back as they passed each other. Throwing a smile over his shoulder, Phichit let himself be spun away, concentrating on following the steps of his partner.

Phichit’s smile left Chris with clumsy feet, barely recovering before he crashed his partner into another pair. Apologizing profusely, Chris lightly grasped the woman’s waist, moving them in a controlled spin toward Phichit and his partner. A shift in the music signaled a partner change and Chris smoothly exchanged the woman in his arms for the man he wanted.

Colliding chest to chest with Chris, Phichit took a stuttering breath, his brain going fuzzy when Chris’s hand found his hip. Stepping backwards when Chris pushed forward, Phichit felt himself fall into Chris’s natural rhythm, his entire body humming with the power that Chris radiated with every step. They spun together to the center of the ring of people, freezing when the music stopped and exchanging elated breaths.

“You’re good,” Chris whispered, running his hand down Phichit’s face.

“You’re better,” Phichit blushed, leaning into Chris’s touch before he could stop himself. His eyes fluttered shut, memorizing the feeling of Chris’s chest pressed against his own and the feeling of Chris’s fingertips trailing across his skin.

“Boats to the ready!” The booming voice had them jumping apart, both of them blushing and grappling at the backs of their necks.

“Do you want to…” Chris stammered, unable to look anywhere but his feet. “Um… I’ll be right...” Dodging into the crowd, Chris didn’t turn back as he disappeared.

Tutting noises behind him had Phichit turning sheepishly toward their animal companions. Arthur sat on the top of Seung Gil’s head, his little hamster arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrow raised. His tiny foot tapped, an indication of his demand for explanation.

“Oh… leave me alone!” Phichit blushed, throwing flustered hands into the air and stomping toward the closest merchant stall. His ears rang and cheeks burned. Throwing daggered glances back at his best friend, Phichit refused to acknowledge the feelings growing in his heart.

* * *

 

Standing on the edge of the dock, Phichit peered between the tiny boat where Chris stood and the dark water. Above them, the sky was filled with stars waiting to be joined by hundreds of lighted lanterns. Telling himself to be brave, Phichit placed his hand in Chris’s open palm and stepped down.

The boat rocked causing Phichit to fall into Chris’s chest, a quiet “hi” whispering out of him as Chris gripped his waist to balance them and keep them from going overboard. Phichit ducked his head away from Chris’s face, quickly sinking onto the wooden bench suspended inside of the boat and shoving the brown satchel underneath it.

Internally scolding himself for being awkward, Chris reached down, snagging the burlap sack he had brought on board. Tossing it onto the dock, Chris caught the rope that Seung Gil flung toward him. Apples scattered across the dock’s wooden planks leaving Seung Gil pleasantly surprised. Chris shrugged when Seung Gil leveled him with a wary stare. “What? I bought them!” Chris called, shoving the boat away from the dock. “Most of them,” he said to Phichit, making Seung Gil choke and Phichit giggle.

The water was calm despite the number of boats currently floating on its surface. From where they teetered, Phichit could see the line of people gathered along the town’s edge, spreading from the bridge all the way up the palace stairs. Two lone figures stood on the balcony, heads bowed together and hands holding a single lantern.

“It must be so hard for them,” Phichit sighed, eyes focused upward on the King and Queen. “Every year, celebrating a birthday for their lost prince.” He couldn’t see their faces, but somehow Phichit knew that they would be solemn and without smiles. Even though he had only ever seen drawings of them, he was positive he knew exactly what they looked like. Confused by his own certainty, Phichit dropped his gaze to his boat mate.

Holding out a lantern, Chris placed it gently in Phichit’s hands, smiling when Phichit looked stunned. “You can’t come all this way and not light a lantern. It wouldn’t be right.” Turning to face the castle balcony, Chris waited until the King and Queen’s lantern rose in the sky before lighting the one in Phichit’s hands. Together, they pushed it towards the heavens, neither of them flinching away when their hands touched.

“Phichit, I-” Chris wasn’t sure what he was about to say, his words dying on his tongue when Phichit placed his satchel in his hands. Blinking dumbly down at the worn leather, Chris furrowed his brow.

“I should have given it to you sooner,” Phichit said, fiddling with the edge of his braid. “I was scared… that you would leave me… or wouldn’t… want to stay with… me… but I’m not so scared now.” Letting his hands rest on his knees, Phichit looked up to Chris’s face. “If you want to leave, you’re free to go… just know… I will always be thankful for this, for you, for taking a chance on me.” There were more words to be said, but the music lifted over them, drowning out Phichit’s ability to be heard. Recognizing the song, Phichit took a chance at sliding forward, fingers shakenly caressing Chris’s cheek as Phichit began to sing.

Nervously, Chris let his hand cover Phichit’s hand on his cheek, the satchel slipping from his other hand and falling forgotten to the bottom of their boat. His eyes closed, listening to Phichit sing to him, his heart feeling every word of Phichit’s song. His heart began to race, his own courage almost failing, but he pushed himself to join in, his voice weaving with Phichit’s and rising over them to tangle with the light of the lanterns.

_All at once, everything is different_

_Now that I see you_

_Now that I see you_

Cupping Phichit’s cheek, Chris leaned in, letting himself believe for a moment that he deserved this. He deserved the way Phichit looked at him, like a man and not like an orphan or a thief. Taking a leap of faith, in the same way Phichit had been placing his faith in Chris from the moment they met, he shifted forward, ready to let himself love as Phichit’s eyes drifted closed.

Movement on the beach caught Chris’s eye, diverting his path from Phichit’s waiting lips. Feeling the weight of his past catching up to him, Chris glanced down at the satchel resting on his feet and back to Phichit’s closed eyes. He wanted all of this, everything Phichit was willing to give him, but first he had to let go of his past and become a man that Phichit could believe in.

“Shorty,” Chris whispered, heart breaking at the confusion and disappointment he saw flicker over Phichit’s face. “I… I have to do something. Then… will you trust me?” Chris couldn’t explain, his heart ached with the way Phichit was looking at him, wishing he had the strength to be open and honest in the way Phichit made him want to be. Seizing the boat’s oar, Chris paddled them back to the beach after Phichit’s silent nod.

The boat bumped on the sand and Phichit watched as Chris climbed over the side, snagging the ragged satchel as he went. Trying to tell himself that everything would be alright, Phichit forced himself to smile when Chris kissed his head. Keeping his eyes closed as he heard Chris slip away, Phichit felt a tickle on his arm and looked down to discover Arthur climbing to his shoulder. “It’ll be alright, Arthur. He’ll be back, I trust him.”

“Trust is for the naïve.”

Phichit nearly toppled out of the boat when a gruff voice broke through the beach’s silence. Arthur leapt to hide underneath the bench’s board, quivering and peeking out as the two men approached. “Stay back!” Phichit yelled, getting to his feet and jumping out of the boat. Glancing around for a weapon, he leaned down to pick up a tree branch, falling when the closest man knocked it from his hand. Trying to run, Phichit was yanked backwards, his hair caught on a loose nail on the side of the boat. “I’m not alone!” Phichit shouted, struggling to free himself as both men came closer.

“Ya sure ‘bout that?” The smaller of the two asked, smirking and nodding out toward a small boat. Craning his neck around, Phichit’s heart dropped at the sight of Chris’s silhouette gliding away over the water. “Now stop struggling,” the man said, grabbing Phichit’s arm, “and tell us about this magic hair of yours.”

A loud _thwack_ rang over the beach as the man holding Phichit grunted and collapsed. A second _thwack_ sounded and the other man dropped to the sand, completely unconscious. Shaking, Phichit shook his hair free, coming face-to-face with Celestino. “Father!” Phichit cried, throwing himself into Celestino’s arms and burying his face into Celestino’s chest. “Father, I’m so sorry, I…” Phichit hiccupped through his tears.

“It’s alright Phichit, let’s go home.” Curling a possessive arm around Phichit’s shoulders, Celestino threw a smirk over his shoulder at the boat with Chris’s body standing tall. Insistently tugging Phichit along, Celestino continued his comforting charade, holding stronger to Phichit with each step he took to lead them away from the beach. When Phichit attempted to look back, Celestino refused to let him turn. “Home,” Celestino said firmly, moving his hand to grab Phichit’s forearm with painful force.

From his place hidden in the boat, Arthur’s eyes went wide seeing the evil glint in Celestino’s eyes. Squeaking in panic, he set off at a run across the sand, determined to find Seung Gil in hopes of getting help.

Out on the water, Chris struggled against his bindings, thrashing his head back and forth desperate to rip the gag from his mouth. His movements sent the dingy back toward the dock and he caught sight of Celestino dragging Phichit away from the edge of the beach. Tears slipped down his cheeks, a strangled cry ripping from his throat as the boat banged into the edge of a dock. The sound of grunts had him looking up, staring at the angry faces of the palace guards.

Rough hands grabbed Chris’s arms as he fought back, slamming his head against the largest guard’s shoulder. The dirty cloth slipped from his mouth and he immediately began shouting. “You don’t understand!” He struggled, legs and arms dragging across the wood. “Stop! My boy- my friend is in trouble! Please!” he begged, his words hitching as he continued to fight the hands dragging him over the planks of the dock. “Those two men on the beach! They have the crown! Please! They helped, he is going to hurt him!” Chris’s cries fell on deaf ears, his head hanging between his shoulders, his tears staining the dock as he was lifted and hauled away.

From his place on the other dock, Seung Gil’s ears twitched, listening to every word Chris was saying and hooves stamping with worry. Arthur appeared underneath him, dodging Seung Gil’s agitated stomps and running up the closest pillar to wave his stubby arms at Seung Gil. Pointing at the unconscious figures on the beach, Arthur confirmed Chris’s story through his tiny hamster charades.

Head coming up, Seung Gil’s face set into a determined scowl. Leaning forward to let Arthur scamper up his nose, Seung Gil turned at the edge of the dock and raced for the beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'ed because my ass is impatient and I am just going to own all my errors.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And as expected, they lived happily ever after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is now complete! My goal is complete every WIP I have out there and then I can finally start posting all the other new stuff which is stowed away in my computer. 
> 
> Although the ending is obviously predictable if you have seen Tangled, I hope that you will enjoy it any way! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read this story :) If you liked it, please let me know!  
> [NeRdLife4Eva Twitter](https://twitter.com/NeRdLife4Eva)  
> [n3rdlif343va Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/n3rdlif343va)

The ground underneath him was musty and damp, the dirt packed down from the years of prisoners who had come before him. This cell contained no windows or benches. It lacked shackles hanging from the walls or even the customary foul-smelling bucket. Chris had spent enough time in his youth behind metal bars to know the difference between the cell where he sat and those he had visited previously.

This cell was not intended for anyone who was meant to live.

Letting his head hang forward, Chris closed his eyes, his grief and regret curling his shoulders toward the ground, his head and heart unable to care what happened to him next.

He had fought every step they had taken from the dock to the dingy dungeon below the castle grounds. He had kicked and flailed, screamed and shouted, until a swift punch in the head had delivered him into darkness. His eyes had opened when his body hit the solid ground, his head spinning with his desire to find Phichit immediately.

Never in his life had Chris truly cared about what happened to himself. A thief’s life wasn’t glamorous and despite his daydreams, Chris always assumed his life would end in the loop of a rope or at the bottom of a dropping axe. In truth, he had found himself expendable. That is, until yesterday when Phichit had brought the sun into his life and shown him that he could potentially be something more.

The sniffle escaped him, echoing loudly around the dungeon, his sorrow bleeding into every flaw and crack. Although he thought there would be no more tears to shed, Chris felt the wetness slipping down his face, pooling on his pants where his legs were bent.

He had failed to keep his promise. Once, Chris had happily boosted about the lack of honor among thieves, but that falsehood had evaporated with the first time he saw Phichit smile. He wanted to give Phichit everything he desired, he wanted to show Phichit the world, but mostly he wanted to protect Phichit from ever being harmed. He had failed and his heart remained shattered in his chest, all of the worst case scenarios about what could be happening to his love playing out in one horrifying mental movie reel.

_“Christophe Giacometti,” Mickey growled, lurching over top of Chris from his elevated place on the rocks. “Remember, you had this coming.”_

_A sharp blow to Chris’s back had him tumbling to his knees, a cloth smelling of sulfur shoved into his mouth as a foot pressed his chest into the sand. Mickey and Emil backed away, letting another man take their place, squatting down to smirk in Chris’s face. “Did you think you could steal him from me?” The man asked, tightening a fist in Chris’s hair and yanking his head up. “Don’t you know, I stole him in the night, the most precious baby boy with all his magical gifts. He wasn’t yours to have and now I will take him away, lock him in a higher tower where you’ll never find him.” Shoving Chris’s face into the sand, the crooked nose man stood, barking orders at Mickey and Emil to tie Chris to the mast of the tiny boat waiting nearby._

_“Honestly, that little boy is lucky I don’t skin him alive for running away. A life in chains shall suit him now.”_

It was the last sentence Chris remembered before his consciousness failed him, only startling awake again at the sounds of Phichit’s cries on the beach. Grinding his teeth together, Chris tried to stop himself from wailing, the memories from the night before making his stomach lurch again.

Phichit was out there, somewhere, and Chris was trapped, awaiting death instead of shielding Phichit like he promised. He wanted to scream or throw himself repeatedly at the bars of his cell, beg for mercy and a chance to make sure Phichit was safe. After he ensured that, he would allow them to kill him without a fight.

A shadow fell over him and Chris felt the coldness creep through his body. Accepting death and understanding its inevitability were two separate emotions that Chris could no longer reconcile. When the door swung open to his cell, he couldn’t bring himself to fight, his body acting like dead weight as he was dragged to his feet.

Their footsteps in the hallway were muted by the mud caked on Chris’s shoes and the unnecessarily soft soles of the guards’ boots. Four of them flanked his sides, their caution unneeded as Chris’s desire to fight had been extinguished with his failure to hold onto Phichit. If he couldn’t fulfill a promise to the man who deserved it most, Chris certainly didn’t deserve to live.

Movement in the shadows caught Chris’s eye and he tried not to react when he spotted Yuuri pressed into a cut out space in the wall. Hearing a low whistle, Chris subtlety flicked his eyes to the left spotting Victor also tucked into the darkness. Feigning faintness, Chris let his body flop toward the ground, drawing the attention of all four guards as Yuuri and Victor leapt from their hiding places.

A flurry of activity with the soundtrack of frying pans crashing onto swords left all four guards unconscious on the ground. Astounded by the fighting skills of the two men from the pub, Chris gawked in awe as Yuuri picked the lock holding together Chris’s cuffs. The heavy wooden door in front of them flung open, causing all three of them to drop into fighting stance, their shoulders relaxing when they spied the white horse standing proudly underneath the arch of the door.

“Seung Gil!” Chris threw himself toward the horse, wrapping his arms around Seung Gil’s neck in a grateful hug. “Did you do this?” Chris pulled back to make eye contact with his once nemesis, laughing when Arthur popped up between Seung Gil’s ears. He patted Arthur’s head before planting a loud kiss on Seung Gil’s nose. “You two make some team.” He continued to laugh when both animals looked smug, all of their eyes going wide at the sound of quickly marching feet moving down the hall.

“This way,” Victor called, throwing himself through the open stone window and landing gracefully in a haystack below. With a small shriek, Yuuri followed, calling behind him for Chris to hurry up. Getting a nod of confirmation from Seung Gil, Chris hurriedly tossed himself in the direction of the ground.  

Guards poured into the courtyard, their swords tapping in a steady rhythm against their hips as they surrounded the threesome. Popping up from behind a wagon, Georgi raced forward, seizing Chris’s shoulders and forcing him onto a wooden plank. “Knees together, elbows in, bend at the waist and-”

Chris screamed as Victor and Yuuri jumped on the other end of the board, defying physics and launching Chris into the air. Waving wildly, he grabbed ahold of the angled castle roof, scraping his feet for purchase until he was able to balance on the edge. Carefully running, Chris navigated the slope, spying Seung Gil racing across the road below him. Steeling himself against the fear of potential death, Chris leapt from the castle roof, closing his eyes and praying Seung Gil would be there.

His nuts stung on impact as Chris slammed into the saddle, groaning as he flopped forward onto Seung Gil’s back. Barely remembering to hold on, Chris nearly fell off of the horse at the sound of approaching hooves.

“That had to hurt,” Yuuri yelled, wincing as he glanced down at Chris’s crotch. “You head wherever you need to, we’ll put the guards off course. Go get your sunshine!”

Chris noted Victor’s arms wrapped tightly around Yuuri’s waist and the matching gold rings glinting from each of their hands. Yelling a final acknowledgement of his gratitude, Chris ignored the ache in his groin and leaned into Seung Gil’s back, grabbing the hanging reigns and directing Seung Gil where to go, silently praying that he wasn’t too late.

* * *

 

The inside of Phichit’s tower felt small compared to the world he had discovered beyond the oppressive walls. He fingers trailed over his drawings, tracing the details of each sun while his mind replayed the memories of his time away.

All of his tears had finished falling by the time they were halfway home, his head hung in shame as his father lectured him about disobeying the rules. Phichit understood that it was his own fault that his heart was broken, he had trusted a stranger when he should have listened to his father.

Falling backwards on his bed, Phichit reached into his pocket, pulling out the small flag the woman had given him as a present for caring for her child. Idly, he lifted it above his head, studying the design and trying to remind himself that not all of his adventure had been bad.

Flashes of suns danced through Phichit’s mind, identical to the flag in his hand. Sitting up, Phichit examined his own walls, eyes landing on each sun that had made its way into all of his paintings. Phichit grabbed at his hair, his mind reeling with memories that didn’t feel like his own.

A mother and father leaning over him, a mobile of suns dancing next to their heads.

Soft kisses and gentle lullabies, arms of his mother rocking him to sleep.

A purple blanket held up to show him the sun spindling out from the middle, tucked under his chin to keep him warm.

A face, cruel and threatening, appearing over the edge of his crib, grimacing before shrouding Phichit’s world in blackness.

Heaving with a hand on his chest, Phichit stumbled to his feet, snatching his storybook from its hidden place and flipping to the story he loved the most.

Memories continued to wash back in, smells and sounds which Phichit remembered from the town, both from the past and his recent visit. He gasped as the image of the royal family tapestry flitted across his mind, his eyes shooting toward his mirror and super-imposing his face over that of the lost prince.

The creaking of Phichit’s door had him slamming the storybook shut, smashing it on the ground as he stood to face his supposed father.

“What is all this racket?” Celestino demanded, sweeping into the room and immediately lifting the discarded flag from Phichit’s bed. “Don’t tell me… you are fantasizing again… what is it this time, Phichit? Do you want to go chase the stars?”

“I’m the lost prince.” As the words left him, Phichit felt the truth become crystal clear in his mind. He heard Celestino growl and Phichit straightened his back. “I’m the lost prince, aren’t I?” he demanded to know, fire burning in his eyes as he stared down Celestino.

“Hm,” Celestino flung his cloak behind him, face setting into a sinister expression. “I suppose I underestimated your intelligence. No matter, it’s not like you’ll have a chance to tell anyone anyway.” Darting forward, Celestino seized Phichit by the arms and forced him to his knees. “I didn’t go through all the trouble of stealing and raising you so you could become a petulant teenager and leave me. Oh no, my dear Phichit. I can promise you, we will be together… forever.”

Phichit tried to scream, his protests lost when a rag was stuffed into his mouth and his attempts to fight ceased by chains being clamped around his wrists. With fear in his eyes, Phichit watched Celestino bind his legs, the heavy chains lacing through a metal loop on the floor and preventing Phichit from moving. “Now you stay here. When I am ready for us to move, I will get you. Try daydreaming now, child.” Flipping his cloak again, Celestino strode across the room, banging the door closed behind him.

Collapsing forward onto his own knees, Phichit began to weep.

* * *

 

“We’re almost there!” Chris yelled, bringing Seung Gil up short as they reached the lake, throwing himself to the ground and sprinting toward Phichit’s tower. Before he could call to Phichit, a cascade of hair flew from the highest window. Bracing his hands in the strands, Chris prayed he wouldn’t hurt Phichit as he began to climb.

* * *

 

Muffled protests came from behind Phichit’s gag, his head shaking violently as Celestino flung his hair out of the tower. He had heard Chris’s voice floating in and had tried to cry out to him, his cheek still burning from where Celestino had struck him. Still determined to fight, Phichit tried to back away from the window, his scalp burning as he felt the weight of Chris dangling from his hair.

“Keep fighting and I’ll kill him,” Celestino threatened from his place by the wall. “If you let him climb, I will merely knock him out and chain him down, leaving him here to wake up and find you gone.”

Whimpering, Phichit stopped struggling, bowing his head and succumbing to Celestino’s demands.

Chris released the hair in his hand, reaching for the stone ledge of the window and pulling himself up. He bit back his grunt, trying to keep himself silent as he dropped down to the floor of Phichit’s tower.

His worst nightmare came to be as he spied Phichit, bound and gagged kneeling on the floor. Tears streamed down Phichit’s cheeks, his eyes wide and panicked as he focused at something over Chris’s shoulder. Moving on instinct, Chris ducked, throwing his hands up and blocking the driving blow crashing down on him. Using the power of his own building anger, Chris forced the man backwards shoving him hard against the wall with the staff shoved under his chin. “Let him go,” Chris growled, barely controlling the shaking in his hands as he choked the man with a hard press of the staff.

“Never,” Celestino spat, one hand slipping from its place on the smoothed wood and slipping into the pocket of his tunic. “He… is… MINE!” Swiftly Celestino withdrew a dagger and sank it into Chris’s side.

Pain ripped through him, causing Chris to shudder and collapse, freeing the villain from his grip. His knees stung from where they had collided with the ground, his head swimming with the blinding red of his stab wound. Feeling himself being dragged from his conscious mind, Chris crawled toward the bookshelf, slumping onto the hardwood and struggling to keep himself up with one elbow propped on the lowest shelf.

Screaming around the gag in his mouth, Phichit flailed, the chins digging heavily into his ankles and wrists with every second of struggle. He threw himself backwards when Celestino approached him, kicking out wildly and thrashing his head back and forth to attempt to loosen the cloth around his mouth.

“Get up,” Celestino ordered, unhooking the end of the chain from its place on the floor. “No one will miss this thief,” spitting in Chris’s direction, Celestino yanked Phichit to his feet. “And no one will ever find _you_.” As if this finalized the conflict, Celestino turned toward the door, stumbling backwards when Phichit threw himself back onto the ground.

Finally loosening the tie at the back of his neck, Phichit lifted his chin, letting the gag drop away from his mouth. “No,” Phichit leveled the fiercest glare he could summon and stared Celestino down. “Let me heal him. Let me heal him and I will go with you. I won’t fight, I won’t try to get away. If you don’t, I will fight you every second of every day for the rest of my life. You’ll never have peace or peace of mind, I will make your life hell.” He was stunned that his voice didn’t shake, grateful for all the courage Chris had given him and knowing he could only stand up to Celestino now because Chris’s life depended on it. Squaring his shoulders, Phichit waited for Celestino’s answer.

“Go,” Celestino threw the chain on the ground, a low grumble rolling from his chest as Phichit crawled over the ground toward Chris. “But if you betray me, you’ll know nothing but suffering for the rest of your days. That’s a promise.”

Phichit didn’t let his mind absorb Celestino’s words, his concentration focused on Chris’s paling face and shallow breaths. “Chris, Chris, can you hear me?” Gently, Phichit held his hands cupped around Chris’s cheeks. “It’s okay, I’m going to save you.” Using one hand, Phichit gathered his hair and pressed it onto Chris’s body careful not to catch it on the dagger still protruding from Chris’s side.

“No,” Chris wheezed, his chest burning with the effort. His vision was blurry, the one focused point being Phichit’s tear-stained cheeks. “Phichit, I won’t let you. Let me die. Fight for your freedom. The world… needs… you… in it…” coughing, Chris leaned backwards, pinching his eyes closed to fight off the overwhelming nature of the fire raging through him.

“Chris, no, please… just let me,” Phichit closed his eyes, whispering the words to the song Celestino had made him sing every day of his life. A sharp tug on the back of his head made him jerk, the sound of hair being sliced apart tearing through the room. With a gasp, Phichit watched Chris’s hand fall to the ground, the bloody dagger dropping next to his limply open palm.

“NO!” Celestino shouted, grappling at Phichit’s hair as the golden streak became the same color as all the other dark strands. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” he screeched, stumbling around the room chasing the remaining inches of the golden hair.

From his place on the floor, Arthur wrapped his arms around a loop of hair, pulling it taught and catching the back of Celestino’s heels. In what felt like slow motion, Celestino tripped backwards, the back of his thighs colliding with the window ledge and his shoulders falling over, dragging the rest of him to the ground. Only a pile of dust and a musty cloak remained where Celestino had once been.

Weeping, Phichit gathered Chris into his arms. “Why… why Chris? I can’t live without you!” His body shook as he cradled Chris in his lap.

“Phichit,” Chris winced, barely able to keep his eyes open as the blood ran from his body and seeped into the grains of the wooden floor planks. “You were my new dream.” Taking a final breath, Chris felt the world go dark.

“No, no, no please!” Phichit begged, wrapping his arms around Chris tightly and rocking back and forth. “Chris, you gave me everything. You were every dream I never knew I had. Please… Chris…” Through his tears, Phichit sang.

_Sunshine warm and bright_

_Bring your gift of light_

_Heal the wounds with ease_

_I ask you for this please_

_Reverse the hurtful fate_

_Erase this pained mistake_

_Turn back the hands of time_

_Give back what once was mine_

A single tear splashed onto Chris’s cheek glimmering in the shape of a sun before disappearing into his skin. Phichit missed this, his eyes pinched shut as he dropped his head onto Chris’s chest, his own body shaking with strength of his grief.

Light burst into the room, springing from the bloody stain on Chris’s side and curling toward the ceiling like rays of the rising sun breaking over the earth’s horizon. The entire room began to glow, warmth trickling from the golden lines of light. Feeling the heat brushing his skin, Phichit lifted his head, gasping at the surrounding light. In his arms, Chris took a single staggered breath.

The sun rose in his mind, breaking through the dark nothingness and awakening his senses. Chris’s whole body tingled, a shiver of energy running under his skin and making him groan in response to the fading pain in his side. Feeling the weight lift from his eyes, Chris slowly blinked them open, discovering Phichit’s shocked face hovering above his own. Reaching out, Chris tangled his fingers into Phichit’s hair.

“Shorty,” he spoke, his voice raspy as his soul awakened from his dance with the edge of death. “Did I ever tell you… I have a thing for short hair?” Grinning at Phichit’s eye roll, Chris let himself be tugged upward, lips still parted in a smile when Phichit kissed him.

From his place across the floor, Arthur let out a series of squeaky cheers, rushing to climb onto the window sill and squeak his joy down to Seung Gil.

“Now what?” Phichit asked, pulling back only slightly to speak and immediately falling victim to his desire to keep kissing Chris, uncaring as to Chris’s answer.

“Actually, I have an idea about that,” Chris let his head thunk back onto the floor, fingers still playing with the ends of Phichit’s choppy haircut. “But… you’ll have to trust me…”

“That can be arranged,” Phichit giggled when Chris tugged on his hair, shaking his head and leaning down to kiss Chris again.

* * *

 

**Epilogue**

Standing on the castle’s balcony, Phichit worriedly let his eyes wander over the calm water resting like glass far below his elevated position. He remembered seeing this balcony from the boat he had shared with Chris. That night felt like it occurred ages ago instead of only a few days prior.

Life had changed drastically since Chris had first tumbled into Phichit’s tower, bringing with him a world of possibilities that Phichit had only dreamed about. Now, Chris stood beside him, grounding Phichit’s nerves by holding his hand and whispering reassurances in his ear. Although Phichit’s heart was certain that he belonged here, living in this castle and loved by the King and Queen who ruled over this land, it would be up to them whether or not his belief was confirmed. Even though Phichit felt confident, the fear of rejection still vibrated in his chest, making him shake despite his efforts to remain calm.

Running footsteps caused Phichit to whirl around, letting go of Chris’s hand and coming face-to-face with his parents. Memories rushed over him, crashing like a tidal wave over his mind and heart and throwing him forward into the waiting arms of his mother. The moment his head rested on her shoulder, he knew he was home.

The three of them collapsed onto their knees, arms wrapped snuggly around each other, years of separation and grief repairing with every second of their embrace. Hearing the shuffling of nervous feet, Phichit lifted his head and glanced back at Chris. He laughed when his mother reached out to snag Chris’s wrist and pulled him into their pile.

There was so much to catch up on, so many years to relive and so much pain to heal, but in that moment, Phichit wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by the people he loved. With the warmth of Chris’s arm around his back and the firmness of his mother’s shoulder pressing into his cheek, Phichit finally let himself close his eyes and feel the relief of being home.

* * *

 

“Phichit?”

The sound of his mother’s voice floated from the large doorway, making Phichit turn away from the window to watch her quietly approach the window seat where he had found himself daydreaming. Humming, he let his feet drop to make room for her to sit.

“I know we haven’t… talked about your life,” his mother leaned forward, gently laying her hand over his, “and you don’t have to. But I have to know… was it awful?”

It was a question Phichit had been pondering himself, his heart grieving for the man who raised him, despite the last few moments of their life together still haunting his nightmares. “I don’t think it was,” Phichit answered honestly. “I learned to read, and to draw, and to dance. I can sew and cook, and sing. Although I never left my tower, it wasn’t until the last year or so that I began to wonder what was beyond my walls. My world was small, but it felt full, and until I defied him, Celestino was never cruel.” Swallowing hard to fight back the tears, Phichit let himself be pulled to his mother’s shoulder, resting his head there as if he had never left. For eighteen years, he had been without a mom and he wanted to cling to every touch she offered.

“You know, people may not understand… I may not understand… but you are allowed to love the good memories and grieve for the loss of those. Even if you aren’t grieving him in death, you can grieve the loss of the innocence of those memories. You should grieve it, otherwise, healing becomes impossible.” Changing her position, his mom turned her body to properly wrap her arms around Phichit’s shoulders, letting him cry into the soft fabric of her collar.

Sniffling, Phichit lifted a hand to wipe his nose on his sleeve. “You sound like Chris.” A mention of his love’s name made Phichit smile through his fading tears.

“Chris, for all his past mistakes, is truly a good man.” Guiding Phichit to look at her, his mother kissed his forehead gently. “I overheard him in the hallway, practicing what sounded like a proposal. Your father and I will bless it, if that’s what you want.”

Jaw falling open, Phichit sat up. Chris wanted to propose to him. As in marriage. As in husbands. Clasping a hand over his mouth, Phichit tried to hide his excited giggle. Clearing his throat, he nodded in what he hoped looked like a regal manner. “It is… what I want.” Losing his act, he threw himself into his mother’s arms, heart melting at the sound of her laughter. He remembered that laugh, as if it existed only in a dream, and he couldn’t wait to make it more of his reality.

* * *

 

_In the spring of the year following the lost prince’s homecoming, he married the man who had climbed into his tower accidentally and fallen in love with him purposely. Their romance was filled with laughter and kindness, and together they spread their joy through all the people of the land._

_And so the lost prince wrote his own happy ending to his story, finding his way home with faith and a little magic and a lot of love. He fought through the knots of his own destiny, chasing the sunshine and discovering his own strength._

_And lived happily ever after._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'ed and surviving it lol

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [atelerixe](https://atelerixe.tumblr.com) who keeps me from sounding stupid and also doesn't beat me every time I start another story without finishing all my others! I love you, A!


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